IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH
by HattieLynn
Summary: This is my translation and condensation of LARAMIESTAR'S original, German language story, IM SCHATTEN DES TODES, the very first story on the Laramie FanFiction Archive (July 14, 2004). It is published with her permission. See Chapter 1 for details. Since it is a translation of the German language story, it is not a second publication of the story.
1. Chapter 1

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

 **(IM SCHATTEN DES TODES)**

 **by**

 **LARAMIESTAR**

* * *

TRANSLATOR'S INTRODUCTION (HattieLynn)

This is a **translation o** f **LaramieStar's story** rather than a second publication of her original German story.

* * *

IM SCHATTEN DES TODES (IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH) was originally written in German by **LaramieStar** and was posted on the Laramie FanFiction Archive on July 14, 2004. It is the very first story in the Archive. It is an AU as explained in LARAMIESTAR'S INTRODUCTION. The main changes are: Mike's background, his legal relationship to Jess, a part of Jess' background, and the ranch house expansion into a two-story house with a laundry room, an office, and a kitchen with a door between it and the living room.

With **LaramieStar's** written permission (see emails below), I (HattieLynn) have translated Google's English translation into something that is hopefully more readable to those of us who can't read German. I don't speak or read German at all and have relied heavily on German to English translation sites for words and phrases that were tangled up and meaningless in Google's translation. I have also "Westernized" the dialogue to sound (hopefully) like the language we heard on the show in the United States. Because of my limited skill and time, I have condensed the story a great deal. I summarized parts of it and (very rarely) added a phrase not in the original story to make sense of my summary or condensation. I always tried to convey **LaramieStar's** meaning as best as I could. I think she wrote a wonderful story and wanted it to be more accessible to the Laramie fandom.

To repeat: IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH is **LaramieStar's** story. It is her plot, her new characters, her action and her dialogue. I just translated it from Google and other resources, condensed it and Westernized the dialogue.

* * *

 **LARAMIESTAR'S PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH AND PUBLISH IT ON THE LARAMIE FANFICTION ARCHIVE**

Dear LaramieStar, I've been reading Google's English translation of your Laramie story IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH published in 2004. It is great! The story is great - the Google translation is understandable but very rough and literal. Would you give me permission to rephrase the Google's translation into regular English? I think the LARAMIE fanfic folks would love it. Let me know. Thanks! (May 16, 2016)

Dear HattieLynn,  
Thank you for your nice mail. Alas, my English is not good enough for translating such a long story. It would sound horrible and last 100 years - at least. Therefore, of course, you have permission to do a translation for other fans. You have to mention me as author of the original German story and yourself as translator. OK?  
Greetings from Frankfurt in Germany  
LaramieStar (May 30, 2016)

* * *

 **IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH BY LARAMIESTAR**

 **Hello and Welcome to the Laramie Story**

 **IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

 **by**

 **Laramiestar**

This story is meant to be a kind of homage to the unforgettable western series LARAMIE, which ran on German TV in the sixties under the title AT THE FOOT OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS. Also unforgettable are the heroes of the story, Jess Harper and his friend and partner, Slim, who had many adventures together.

Of course, the two heroes and the other main characters have not sprung out of my imagination, but are only on loan from the creators of this series, but the following story and the other characters in it are my own creation.

In this story, Slim and Jess are slightly older than in the original series, somewhere around thirty years old. The characters have a slightly different setting than the original series but that's not too distracting. It's just my own way of seeing it. This story also takes place a little later than the original, about 1878, but even that is not too disconcerting.

Although the finished story turned out to be a little long and it is not packed with constant action, it nevertheless still has good dialogue about friendship, companionship and family cohesion, which are key elements of the original series.

There is of course some violence and bloodshed but neither are glorified.

Rating: PG (PG-13 maybe for Chapter I)

The story is dedicated to all those innocent victims who feel alone and without hope.

In addition, the story is dedicated to Robert Fuller, who with his incomparable expressiveness brought Jess Harper to life and portrayed this figure better than anyone else could have ever done.

Have fun reading!

Laramiestar

* * *

 **IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 1

A Bullet for Jess Harper

Mike was unusually cheerful Monday afternoon when he got home from school. Scattering clacking, indignant chickens out of his way, he raced into the yard of the Sherman Ranch on his pony and skidded to a stop in front of the ranch house.

"Yippee!" he shouted, whirling his bundle of textbooks around his head as he stormed onto the porch and ran into the house. "Yippee! No school in the morning!"

Daisy was standing in front of the living room table with a stack of plates in her hand. "There's no need to shout like that!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry, Aunt Daisy, but I'm so happy that I just _had_ to shout! There's going to be a circus in Laramie tomorrow! Miss Finch is letting us go! We don't have to do homework tonight!"

"Well, Miss Finch is being very kind," Daisy said with a smile. "Now go and take care of Browny. Lunch is almost ready. Then you can tell us all about it."

She didn't have to say it a second time. Bursting with excitement, the boy took Browny to the barn to unsaddle him. After he tended to the pony's needs, he hurried back inside. Slim was already sitting at the table and Daisy had just brought in the stew.

"Hi, Slim!" Mike said, sliding into his seat. "Do you know what's happening tomorrow?"

"No," Slim said, "but I'm sure you're going to tell me all about it." He glanced at Daisy and winked. She'd filled him in about the carnival while Mike was in the barn.

"First, eat your food," Daisy told Mike. "Stew doesn't taste good when it's cold."

"Yes, ma'am," Mike said and shoveled the stew into his mouth as fast as he could. When the last bite disappeared, words started bubbling out of him like water from a spring. "Guess what, Slim! There's going to be a circus in town! They have somebody that can swallow fire! And there's a dancing bear there, too! Do you think Jess will go with me? Where is he anyway? I still haven't seen him."

"He rode over to the north pasture this morning to check on the fences. The horses broke some posts down," Slim said. "I don't think he'll be back until sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"Aww, shoot!" Mike's face fell, but then he looked at Slim. "Will you go with me?"

"I can't. I got a list of chores up to my neck."

"Oh, that's too bad!" Daisy said, knowing Slim really didn't want to go anyway. "But I can go with you, Mike - that is, if you help me with all the chores I have to do. You could even get your room cleaned up for once. How's that?"

"That's great!" Mike exclaimed. "I'll do everything you want me to if you'll go with me to the circus! It starts tomorrow at two o'clock."

The next morning the boy worked hard to make sure his room would pass Daisy's inspection. He'd just put the last bits and pieces of his things in a closet near an open window when he heard hoof beats outside. Maybe this was Jess coming back from the north pasture! Now his foster father could go with him to the circus and win some prizes with his good marksmanship! When he looked out the window, he was disappointed to see two strangers in front of the house instead of Jess.

Mike usually ran downstairs at once when visitors came but today he stayed at the open window. There was something he didn't like about these two men. After a second or two, he stepped aside and hid behind the curtain. From there he was able to watch as the horsemen rode closer. They were looking around as if they were afraid of being seen. Guiding their horses to the side of the house and leaving them there, they walked around to the front porch. Both wore wide gun belts and held Winchester rifles by their side.

Mike saw the two men step onto the porch and disappear beneath its roof. He scurried out of the bedroom to crouch behind the upper railing of the steps that led directly down to the living room. His instinct warned him to be careful. Something was wrong with these strangers.

From behind the railing, Mike had a good view of the entire living room, including the front door and the large window beside it. Through the window's clear pane he could see part of the porch and a small piece of the yard. At the moment, there was no one in the downstairs room. Slim had gone into his study to work on the account books and Daisy was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. Mike crouched lower behind the railing as the front door banged open. The two men stormed inside and stood with legs akimbo in the middle of the floor.

Slim heard the noise. He came out of his office to see what was happening. "Who….?" he started to ask.

The words died in his throat and he stopped in his tracks. One of the men had the barrel of his Winchester pointed at him. The other one went to the window to watch for anyone coming into the yard.

"Who are you?" Slim demanded, finding his voice. "What do you want?"

"I'll ask the questions!" the man with the rifle barked out. "You the rancher here?" he asked and motioned with the gun barrel for the rancher to raise his hands.

"Yeah," Slim said. He reluctantly lifted his hands over his head and even more reluctantly let the man search him.

Just then, Daisy walked out of the kitchen. "Slim, what…." She broke off in mid-sentence when the man at the window turned his Winchester on her. Daisy stared at him but seemed to have no fear of him - at least not any that she showed to him. "What is this?" she said sternly.

"Shut up!" The man strode over to her and forced her into the living room.

The one pointing his gun at Slim asked, "Is anyone else in the house?"

"No," the rancher said curtly.

"Hal!" the man yelled. "Check the house!"

Leaving the window, Hal immediately obeyed, going through all the rooms on the ground floor. Then he climbed the stairs to the second floor while the other man kept his gun on Slim and Daisy.

As soon as Hal began his search of the rooms on the first floor, Mike crept back into his room and hid under the bed. He crawled to the farthest corner, hardly daring to breathe. The stairs creaked under Hal's heavy footsteps; then Mike heard the floorboards creaking in the hallway. Someone entered the room.

The boy held his breath, biting his lips in fear. His heart was beating so hard he was afraid the loud thumping would give him away. He saw a pair of dusty boots shuffling on the floor. They approached the bed an arm's length from him, and then they went away.

Mike dared to breathe only after the man left the room. He listened, frozen in place, as all the doors on the second floor were opened one by one. The footsteps came toward his bedroom again before they pounded back down the stairs. Mike waited a moment before he slid out from under the bed and returned to his observation post. He was frightened but his need to know what was happening drove him out of hiding.

"Nobody's upstairs," he heard Hal report.

"Well then, we'll just wait here," the other one said.

"If you're waiting for the stagecoach, you'll have to wait three or four hours," Slim told them bluntly. "It won't come before then."

"Who says we're waiting for the stagecoach?" the man in front of him asked, taunting him.

"What else do you want? There's no money for you here. I don't have any in the house, not even ten dollars. I don't know what else would be worth all this. So you can just get out of here!"

"Why're you being so unfriendly? We just got here," Hal joked from his post near the window. "Ron, do you want me to gag him?"

"Leave him to me! You just guard the window!" Turning to Slim, Ron growled, "We're just meeting a friend. We told him we would wait for him here until noon. We'll leave when he gets here."

"Why use this house?"

"Because it's too boring out on the range!" Hal grinned, baring his teeth like a dog about to bite.

The following silence was eerie. Slim and Daisy exchanged looks, non-verbally agreeing to offer no resistance, at least for the time being. Slim wasn't about to give up but he realized he didn't have any other choice right now. Hal, in particular, seemed to be a real killer. Watching at the window, he was hunched over, nervously playing with his Winchester. Slim hoped the men really were just waiting for a friend of theirs and would go away when he came. He also thought it was possible they might be here to kill someone arriving on the next stagecoach, even though he wasn't expecting anybody special.

A cold chill ran down his spine. He was expecting someone. Jess. What if these two guys were waiting for him? He tensed. He had to do something, but he didn't know what. The silence stretched out as he stood frozen by the Winchester aimed at his gut.

All of a sudden Hal straightened up. "Ron!" he yelled. "We got a rider coming in!"

Slim followed the man's gaze and saw a horseman galloping directly toward the house. He knew who it was by the way he rode.

"You know that guy out there?" Ron asked Slim.

"That's my partner - Jess Harper." Slim watched for the outlaws' reactions to see if they recognized the name.

"Hal," Ron said, "do you know him?"

"Nope. Not that I know of. Think I ought to kill him?"

"Let him come in a little closer."

"You don't need to shoot him!" Slim yelled.

"I don't," Ron said with a broken-toothed grin. "But Hal can't wait. I know him. If you want to keep on living, I wouldn't try to stop him."

"Jess hasn't done anything to you! You don't even know him!" Slim shouted.

"Bad luck for him. I'm afraid I won't get to make his acquaintance."

"Damn it! He won't bother you if he knows you got us covered! You can't just shoot a man for no reason!"

"Why not? This morning Hal told me he was tired of using empty cans and bottles for target practice. He wants something that's moving," Ron said with cold indifference.

"He's a man! Not a target! A man!"

"That's even better."

"What did you say?" Slim was stunned.

"You heard me right." Ron grinned again. He enjoyed watching the big rancher wiggle like a fish on a hook.

"Are you crazy?" Slim blurted out in horror. "You can't… That man out there is my friend! I won't…" Slim made a move in his direction but stopped immediately as the outlaw drew his pistol with his left hand and aimed it at Daisy.

"If you want to keep this little lady alive you better stay where you are," Ron threatened, shoving the gun toward Daisy.

"You coward!" Daisy cried. "Don't you have any conscience at all?"

"That just slows you down," Ron said, shrugging.

Slim could see Jess clearly now. "Please let him alone!" he asked in a gentler tone, hoping he could appeal to their softer side - if they had one. "He's like a brother to me."

"You know what?" Ron acted as if he were reconsidering things. "I'm not a monster. Maybe I can persuade Hal to change his mind if you can choose."

"Chose what?" Slim said, confused.

"You decide! Either the cowboy or the little lady over there."

Slim's heart seemed to stop. He was dealing with madmen. "You're insane," he said.

"Cut out the palaver," Ron barked, his face a mask of sadistic glee. "Watch close, now. You're going to have a chance to see something not many people get to see. You're going to get to watch a friend die."

Jess was getting closer. After a day and a night on the range, he was glad to be home. He rode to the corral, dismounted and led Traveler into the barn to unsaddle him. When he came out, he strode happily toward the house, unaware of the gunman waiting for him at the window.

Inside, Daisy was close to fainting. Slim still had the barrel of the rifle in his stomach and couldn't think clearly. All he could see was the pistol aimed at Daisy and the Winchester aimed at Jess. The mussel of Hal's gun was following his partner's every step.

Driven to desperate action, Slim finally yelled "Jess!" just as Jess grabbed the post near the steps and swung up onto the porch - but the warning came too late. Hal's Winchester fired at the same time Slim shouted, drowning out the rancher's voice. Gunfire burned a hole in the filigree lace curtains and the window burst into a thousand glass shards.

Jess froze in mid-stride. His terrible, gurgling scream of pain mingled with the echo of the fading rifle blast. A bloody red stain spread across his chest. Flung against the porch railings by the force of the bullet, he clung to the canopy post for a moment, then slipped to his knees. He tried to get back on his feet but he was already too weak. He fell to the wooden floor, unconscious.

"Jess!" Slim roared as Daisy collapsed in a dead faint.

"Not so fast, friend," Ron said and slammed the butt of his rifle against Slim's head. "Hal!" he yelled, "Go out there and see if that guy is dead. But be careful. He might just be pretending."

"I didn't miss," Hal sneered. "See that blood? It was a good shot - but my aim might have been off a little." He fiddled with the Winchester's site, eying it closely. Then he got up, drew his revolver and went to the porch to inspect his work.

The gunman approached Jess' crumpled body with caution. He held his pistol to the fallen man's head and studied him before he kicked him savagely in the side. Jess didn't move. The outlaw stuck his boot under him and rolled him over on his back so he could see where the bullet hit. Blood was pouring out of a wound to the left of Jess' heart and was trickling out of the side of his mouth. Hal was finally satisfied, but when he bent to unbuckle the wounded man's gun belt, he noticed Jess was still breathing and shouted out, "Ron! This guy is still alive! Should I finish him off?"

"Do you need to?"

"Nah! I got him good. He's bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Then get him into the house and out of sight!"

Hal grabbed Jess by both arms and dragged him into the living room. "Damn! This guy is heavy," he growled, dumping him on the floor. "I was right about my shot. The bullet went to the right. I was aiming for a button on his shirt but I missed by a hand span! When I see that gunsmith again, I'm going to make him pay for this. The site on that Winchester I got from him is off."

"Shut your trap and get back to the window!" Ron said. "Let me know when you see Alex. We need to get out of here before anybody comes." He checked Slim and Daisy to make sure they were still unconscious, took a look at Jess, then went to stand by his side-kick at the shattered window.

Both men saw the approaching rider at the same time.

"Is that him?" Hal asked, squinting so he could see better.

"Yeah." Ron jammed his pistol back in his holster. "Come on, let's go. But get rid of that gun first," he said, nodding at the gun belt Hal had thrown on the floor after he'd dragged Jess inside.

Hal picked up the belt, pulled the Colt out of its holster and emptied the cartridges into his hand. "This is a first class gun!" he exclaimed. "Clean as a whistle. He might have got me if he'd had a chance."

"Take it with you if you like it so much."

"Nah. I'll stick with mine. I'm used to it." He pocketed the cartridges and shoved the gun under the couch near the fireplace. "Besides, it might have a problem I don't know about - like that Winchester."

"I don't give a damn what you do. Let's get out of here!"

"I'm coming. You're always complaining about something," Hal groused and followed him out the door.

After retrieving their horses from the side of the house, the two men rode out, heading toward their friend Alex. They were supposed to meet him on the road near the Sherman Relay Station but they didn't like the heat and boredom of the open range. They decided to pass the time by invading the ranch house instead. They didn't know Jess Harper at all. Sadistic murderers, they just wanted to have a little fun while they waited for their friend.

END OF CHAPTER 1


	2. Chapter 2

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 2

Drafts of air blowing in through the shattered window and the wide open front door roused Daisy to consciousness. Terrified, she peeked through her eyelashes before cautiously opening her eyes to look around the room. The two men were gone.

She managed to sit upright and saw Slim lying beside her, struggling to wake up. Groaning, he raised up on one elbow and ran his hand along the lump on the side of his head. He looked up at Daisy, then at the open door.

"What happened? Are you OK?" he asked, fighting against dizziness.

"I'm fine. But Jess…."

"Jess…." Memory returned. "Jess!" He jerked around and saw the trail of blood leading to Jess lifeless body on the other side of the room. Injury forgotten, Slim staggered over to him, dropped to his knees and lifted him into his lap. "Jess…"

He felt for a pulse in Jess' wrist but couldn't find it. Fearing the worst, he put two fingers over the artery in Jess' neck and felt a weak flutter, but his relief was short lived. When he opened his partner's bloody shirt, he saw how badly he was hurt. He ran his hand beneath Jess' back, hoping to find the exit wound but it wasn't there.

"Is he dead?" Daisy asked, standing next to him, fighting down nausea. She usually was not easily dismayed, but she loved Jess like her own son and was close to collapse.

"No, but he's barely alive."

As Slim bent over him, Jess arched his back and took a gasping breath, half opening his eyes. He saw Slim through a dense haze. He had no idea what had happened. All he knew was his body was on fire with hellish pain.

"Slim…." he gasped before his mouth filled with blood. He started coughing, gagging on the blood and coughing again. If he could have, he would have screamed with pain, but all he could do was vomit bloody sputum that flooded down over his chest. Slim lifted him in his arms and held him until the spasm eased. Jess sank exhausted against his partner's chest and passed out.

"Slim?' Daisy whispered.

'He's still alive, but we got to get him into bed."

It took all of Slim's strength to lift Jess in his arms and carry him toward the bedroom next to the stairs. Daisy darted around him, opened the door to the room, pulled back the sheets and blankets on the bed, then cried, "I'll get water and towels!" and ran toward the kitchen.

With his muscles strained to their limit, Slim struggled into the room and carefully lowered Jess onto the bed's white sheets, seeing them instantly stain red with blood. He turned Jess' head to the side to keep him from choking, straightened out his partner's body and took off his boots. Then he threw a blanket over him and sat down beside him.

His horror grew as he examined the wound. The bullet had penetrated the left side of the chest just above the heart. Instead of passing straight through the body and coming out the other side, it hit a rib and had gotten stuck on it. From the outside, the wound didn't look that bad, but Slim felt sick when he tried to imagine how seriously Jess was injured on the inside.

Daisy hurried back in with an armful of clean sheets and towels and a basin of hot water. Slim grabbed a cloth and started trying to staunch the bleeding.

"The bullet's still in there," he told Daisy, his voice neutral and flat. "Can you get it?"

"No. It's too close to the heart. A doctor would have to do it, and I'm not sure if even a doctor can…." She was ripping the sheets up into strips, her eyes fixed on Jess' ashen face and sunken cheeks. It seemed like the shadow of death had already fallen on his tightly closed eyes. "Ride to Laramie, Slim, and get Doc Higgins! I'll stay here and take care of him! Hurry! He doesn't have much time!"

"He might die before I get to town."

"Don't even think of such a thing! Go on now before it's too late!"

Reluctant to leave Jess, Slim hesitated for a second or two, but he knew he had to go get the doctor if there was to be any chance at all of saving his partner's life. He tore himself away and ran to the barn where he saddled Alamo and thundered out of the yard. Driving the horse hard, he covered the twelve miles to Laramie in record time. His fear grew all the way. What if the doctor wasn't in his office? If he was out on a house call? He galloped full speed down the town's main street, turned onto a side street and skidded to a halt in front of Doc Higgin's office.

Laramie's sheriff, Mort Corey, saw Slim race past him. Knowing the rancher's headlong gallop through town probably meant trouble, he followed him to find out what was going on. He discovered Slim's horse, trembling, hand hanging, reins trailing loose, standing in the middle of the street in front of Doc Higgin's office. There was no sign of Slim, but then, the office door opened and the doctor raced out with Slim right behind him. Higgins ran to the horse and buggy he kept ready and waiting during the daytime, jumped in, snapped the whip and took off. Slim ran toward Alamo.

"Slim!" Mort cried, grabbing the horse's bridle. "What's gotten into you? You could've hurt somebody riding through town like that."

Slim turned to look at him. "No time to explain, Mort. I got to get home." He jumped on Alamo and jerked the horse's head loose. "Jess is hurt," he said. "Maybe dying." He spurred the horse and it reared wildly, causing Mort to fall back. Horse and rider dashed off toward the livery stable.

"Slim!" Mort ran after the rancher and caught up with him at the livery as he was unsaddling Alamo. "What happened, boy?" he asked, panting hard.

"Jess has been shot. It's bad, Mort. Really bad. He was ambushed. Two men broke into the house. I had to watch it happen…" He broke off, threw the saddle on the fresh horse that had been brought in for him and cinched it tight. "I got to get back to him..."

"You go on," Mort said. "Get back as fast as you can. I'll be right behind you with a couple of men."

Slim nodded, swung into the saddle, burst out of the stable and spurred the horse to a breakneck gallop through town and back to the ranch. He and the doctor arrived at the house at the same time.

END OF CHAPTER 2


	3. Chapter 3

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 3

As long as the outlaws were in the house, Mike crouched behind the stair rail, frozen. From there he could see everything that went on. He watched in horror as the man named Hal shot Jess. He stared down at the sprawled, bloody body of his foster father, unaware of anything else, and watched unmoving as Slim carried him into the downstairs bedroom. He seemed to breathe again only when Slim ran out the front door toward the barn.

Mike was so shocked he couldn't cry. His eyes burned and his throated closed. In the sudden silence in the house after Slim left, he gradually regained a fragment of normal consciousness, feeling as if he were waking up from a deep sleep. Confused, he looked around, straightened up slowly and crept downstairs like a burglar not wanting to be heard.

Trancelike, he walked to the pool of blood on the floor and stood there with his hand over his mouth, fighting nausea. Step by step, he followed the red trail out the front door and stopped at the spot where Jess had fallen. He saw dark stains on the porch post and with a trembling hand reached out to touch them.

Nausea overwhelmed him. He leaned over the edge of the porch and vomited, his whole body convulsing. Exhausted, he staggered back to the wall of the house and slid to the porch floor staring at his blood stained fingers. They felt like were stinging. He rubbed them on his chest, but the strange pain remained.

He wasn't able to stay there long. Terrified but driven by his need to see Jess, he jerked himself up and crept back into the house. He stole past the kitchen where Daisy had gone to get more water and as if drawn by an irresistible force, walked into the bedroom where Jess lay. Going straight to the bed, he looked down at the wounded man - and collapsed to his knees, devastated by what he saw. The vital, strong face of his foster father was utterly changed. He lay with his mouth half-opened, his lips cracked, his eyes closed and sunken and his pale skin covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Overall lay a purplish, grey shadow - the shadow of death.

'Jess!" Mike whispered and hesitantly touched him on the edge of his shoulder. "Please wake up. You're not dead, are you? Why don't you say something? You can't die, you hear me?"

Jess didn't move.

Mike reached for Jess's limp hand and held it tight. "Please, God, don't let him die. I don't want him to die. I'll be good, I promise." His voice was full of tears, but even now he couldn't cry. He was so engrossed in his prayer he didn't hear Daisy come in.

"Mike! What are you doing in here? I thought you were in your room …."

Mike looked up. "I….," he swallowed hard, "I...I saw those men… And Jess..."

"Oh, dear God…," she said, tears streaming down her face. "Why weren't you in your room?"

"I ...I saw them coming...from my window. I hid under the bed when the man….I was so scared he was going to find me. But when he went back downstairs… I saw …. I heard him scream….and all the blood…" He stared vacantly at Jess on the bed and rubbed his own chest as if something was hurting him there. "Aunt Daisy, Jess...is he...is he...dead?"

"No, Mike," she put the water she was carrying on the bedside table. With one hand she wiped her tears away and with the other pulled the kneeling boy close to her side. "He's alive."

"Is he going to die?"

"We hope not."

"Why doesn't he say anything?"

"He's unconscious, Mike. He can't. Now please go to your room." She lifted him to his feet and gave him a gentle shove, then turned to dip a cloth into the water bowl.

"Is he hurting a lot?" Mike asked, still standing close to her.

Daisy realized Mike wasn't about to leave the room. She brushed Jess' hair from his forehead and gently wiped off his face and neck. "I don't think so," she said.

"But it must have hurt him. He screamed so loud…"

"I think it was the shock that made him do that, not the pain."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Mike looked doubtful. "Getting shot had to hurt! Are you sure he's not hurting now?"

Daisy didn't answer right away. "As long as he's unconscious, he doesn't feel anything."

"What's it feel like when you're unconscious?" he asked, staring at the ashen face of his foster father.

"The questions you ask!" she choked out, her voice tight with her own fear.

"Tell me!

"It's something like being in a very deep sleep."

"Is that why he's so quiet?"

"Yes."

"But why is he unconscious?" He couldn't leave it alone.

"Mike, please! I know you can't understand all this, but I can't explain it now. I have to take care of Jess."

"Jess will wake up, won't he?" the boy said stubbornly.

"After a while."

"When is that?"

"When he's better."

"But…"

"Mike!" Daisy said sharply.

This time the harsh tone of her voice had its effect. The boy got quiet but kept a fixed stare on the wounded man. Jess had always been the embodiment of strength and security for him. Just being around him made Mike feel safe. His foster father had been injured in one way or other several times since the boy had come to live at the ranch, but he'd never been hurt this badly before. Now, lying motionless on the bed, he seemed almost like a different person.

Daisy wrung out another cloth, folded it and laid it across Jess' forehead. Blood was trickling out of the corner of his mouth and pooling around his lips faster than she could wash it off. A red, wet spot was gradually growing to the size of a man's hand on the white cloth that covered the wound.

Mike punched her arm to get her attention and pointed to the blood stained bandage. "Aunt Daisy! He's still bleeding!"

"Mike, please! Please go to your room. Go to your room!"

"I want to help!"

"You can't help," she said in a shaky voice.

"But, Aunt Daisy, I want to…." He didn't move. "Can't I do anything?"

Realizing she couldn't get rid of him, she changed tactics. There were things he could do that really would help, and that would keep him out of the room at the same time.

"Yes, Mike," she said, "you can do something. Go to the kitchen and make sure there is hot water on the stove, a lot of it. Bring in some wood from outside and stoke up the oven - just be sure not to burn yourself. Then go out to the gate and watch for Slim and the doctor. The minute you see them, run as fast as you to let me know they're here."

"OK," Mike said, shifting from foot to foot, fighting with his need to stay, his eyes still on Jess, but then he turned and ran out of the room to do whatever he could to help his foster father and his very best friend.

"Dear God," Daisy mourned when he was gone, "did he have to see everything?"

Jess began to moan and gasp for air. Daisy forgot Mike as she tried to calm the wounded man. He coughed as more blood welled out of his mouth, ran down his chin and streamed out of his nose but he quickly lost consciousness again, his head lolling to one side. Daisy mopped up the fluid and noticed that the blood stain on the bandage was steadily growing larger.

"Oh, please God," Daisy prayed out loud, "please help him get through this. Please let the doctor come in time. Please, please don't let him die."

She felt frozen in time - an eternity of time, waiting alone, tending to her beloved adopted son alone - before Mike came storming back into the room yelling, "Aunt Daisy! Aunt Daisy! Slim is back and the doctor is with him!"

Daisy heard the sound of hoof beats, the clump of boots on the stairs, then Slim and the doctor burst into the room.

"Thank God!" she breathed.

"Mrs. Cooper," Dr. Higgins said, nodding to her and going straight to the bed. He put his bag on a nearby chair, took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves without ever taking his eyes off his patient. "Has he been conscious since he was hit?" he asked her.

"Once, but only briefly. He coughed up blood," she said, close to tears. Her own feelings were surging up now that help had finally arrived.

"A lot?"

She nodded, unable to speak. The doctor turned around to look at her, waiting for an answer. She nodded again, feebly, then took a deep breath, pulled herself together, lifted her chin and said, "A moderate amount. It was fresh blood."

The doctor muttered something to himself and scowled. "I was afraid of that," he said out loud. "Have you got plenty of hot water?"

"In the kitchen."

"Where can I wash my hands?"

"Also in the kitchen. Soap and towels are there."

Daisy was once more a capable nurse, her own emotions under lock and key. She started to follow the doctor toward the kitchen to help him gather supplies, but Slim stopped her. He'd been hovering at the foot of the bed, trying to keep out of Higgins way. Mike was standing beside him, staring fixedly at Jess.

"Why is Mike in here?" Slim asked Daisy as she tried to slip past him.

"I couldn't help it, Slim. He saw everything."

Slim's already tense frown contracted more, and the muscles in his jaw jumped as he looked down at the boy beside him.

"Take care of him," Daisy said nodding toward Mike. "I need to help the doctor." She eased past them and headed for the kitchen.

Slim put his arm around Mike and squeezed his shoulder. The boy looked up at him, his young face filled with anxiety.

"Slim," he said, "Jess won't die, will he? He'll get well again, won't he?"

"Sure he will, Mike." His voice was flat. It was hard to give the boy much comfort - he was as afraid as Mike was. "But you've got to stay out of the way so Doc Higgins can help him. Go on now."

Mike studied Slim's tense face. What he saw there made him hang his head and leave the room without another word. As he went out, the doctor and Daisy back came in.

"What can I do?" Slim asked.

"Nothing at the moment," Higgins said. "Hope and pray - and take care of the boy. There's nothing else you can do for Jess."

Slim reluctantly left the room, quietly closing the door behind him. When he got downstairs, he pulled out a chair at the living room table and sank down in it, exhausted. This was the first time he'd stopped since Jess was shot. He dropped his head into his hands, his fingers digging into his skull. This was a nightmare, one he couldn't wake up from. Then he felt a small hand touch his arm. He looked up to see Mike standing beside him.

"Mike..." Slim tried to conceal the horror he was feeling, "did you really see everything that happened?"

Mike nodded. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, but no words came out.

"Where were you?"

"There…" He pointed upstairs. "I...I... was hiding behind the rails."

"Did you see what happened after I was knocked out? They said they were here to meet somebody. Did you see anybody else?"

Mike shook his head but, with Slim's prompting, told what he had seen as best as he could. When he came to the end of his story, he asked, "But Slim, why did they shoot Jess?"

"I don't know." Slim's face was grim and full of pain. "I don't think there was a reason. The guy just wanted to hurt somebody."

"They just wanted to hurt him?"

Slim realized the boy had no way of making sense of what happened. Neither did he. "I'm afraid so, Mike," he said. "Now look, Tiger. You need to go to your room and stay there until I come get you. Right now you've got to stay out of the way while the doc works on Jess."

"But I want…."

"Go on, Mike. Now!"

"OK, Slim," Mike said sadly. Hanging his head, he reluctantly shuffled away, dragging himself upstairs to his room but when he got there, he felt so abandoned and scared he couldn't stay. He crept back out to the stair rail and cowered behind it, watching Slim pace back and forth in the living room below until the rattling thunder of an incoming stagecoach prompted the rancher to go outside.

The stage had arrived later than it usually did. Slim talked briefly to the driver and asked him to change the team today by himself.

"Sure, Slim," Abe Miller nodded. "Since we got no passengers today, I won't stay here long. That way I can make up for lost time. Say "howdy" to Miss Daisy and Jess for me."

"I'll do that," Slim said, barely able to keep his voice steady. Abe hopped down from the driver's seat, and Slim forgot about him. He went back into the house to hover at the door of the small bedroom, wondering what was taking so long. Only twenty minutes had passed by, but to the rancher, it felt endless.

As the stage rolled toward Laramie, Mort Corey and three other men galloped past it and rode up to the house. The posse waited outside as Mort swung off his horse and hurried inside to where Slim was standing by the door.

"How is he?" the sheriff asked, his abruptness revealing his anxiety.

Slim shook his head. "Not good."

"Will he make it?"

"I hope so, but it looks bad. The doctor's with him now. I think he's still alive or Dan wouldn't…." His voice failed him.

"Maybe it looks worse than it is, Slim," Mort said, trying to reassure him - and himself.

"I wish that were true, Mort, but you haven't seen him. He's lost a lot of blood, and the bullet is still in him. It must have done a lot of damage. He coughed up blood. He nearly suffocated."

"What happened?"

It was hard to do, but Slim told Mort everything he remembered, describing the men in detail and adding what Mike had seen. He ended by saying, "The stage driver from Cheyenne didn't see them, and you didn't see them. My guess is that they're adding north."

"Do you think they were waiting for Jess?" Mort asked. "That they had a score to settle with him?"

"I don't think so. They didn't know him. They shot Jess just to amuse themselves. It could have been anybody. If Jess had come home half an hour, later nothing would have happened to him. Half an hour, Mort! Thirty damn minutes!"

"If it hadn't been Jess, it might have been you or Daisy."

"I wish it had been me!" Slim snapped.

"I know that, Slim. I wish nobody had been hurt. Remember, Jess is my friend, too."

"Sure…" Slim ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm down. "Are you riding out to hunt for them?"

"If we can find their trail. Are you coming?"

"I'd like to, but I can't leave Jess. Not now."

"I understand," Mort said. He took a deep breath and gave Slim a reassuring slap on the arm. "We'll find them. You take of Jess."

"Thanks, Mort. And be careful. They're cold blooded killers."

Slim watched as the sheriff and his men rode out, then slowly closed the front door and started pacing again. What was taking so long? For a moment, he stopped in front of the living room window and looked out at the sun-baked yard. He couldn't imagine life without Jess. He was more than a partner; he had become a part of the ranch, a part of himself, closer than a brother. He was irreplaceable. And what about Mike? The boy would be inconsolable. Jess was father, hero and teacher to him. Because he had lost his own family at an early age, Jess had a special affinity with him, a bond that came from the heart and made their relationship absolutely vital to both of them. And then there was Daisy. Her own son had been killed in the war. When she first came to the ranch, she was a widow and completely alone. She had adopted all of them, become a mother to them as well as a teacher to Mike. They were a family. If Jess wasn't with them anymore...

With a stab of fear, he realized he was thinking like Jess was already dead - but he wasn't. He was still alive. Slim's mouth tightened with resolve. He knew he had to fight for Jess' life by holding on to that reality. He could never doubt for a minute that Jess would pull through, no matter how bad things looked.

The bedroom door opened behind him and he turned around with a jerk. Daisy stumbled out of the room, her hand pressed against her forehead. She was chalky white and seemed close to collapse as she leaned against a chest of drawers near the doorway.

"Daisy!" Slim strode over to her and put an arm around her waist to support her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said in direct contradiction to how she looked. She ran a shaky hand over her face. "So much chloroform…. "

Slim wasn't fooled. It was more than the chloroform. "How's Jess?" he asked, still holding her.

"Oh, Slim!" She clung to his arm. "It's so terrible. Why did this have to happen?"

"What about Jess?" Slim repeated. "Is he… Daisy!" He shook her a little to get her attention. "How is he?"

"He….he's still alive," she said, her voice cracked with strain.

"Thank God!" He hugged Daisy in relief. "Could Dan get the bullet out?"

She nodded, her head against his chest. She'd seen a lot of suffering and death working in an army hospital with her husband during the war, but this was different. Jess was like her own son, like the son she lost in the war, a son wounded to the point of death.

"What's taking so long? What's Dan doing in there?" Slim asked, full of anxiety.

"He's trying to stop the internal bleeding. I think he's going to have to cauterize the wound."

Slim grimaced, knowing the pain of that procedure. He swiped a hand over his face, trying to wipe away his dread. "If that's what he has to do...if it'll help Jess."

"I hope it will," Daisy said and let Slim lead her to a chair. "Please, Slim… I need something to drink…."

He hurried into the kitchen and came back with a cup of coffee that she had to hold with both hands because she was trembling so much. After she'd taken a few sips, she looked around and asked, "Where's Mike?"

"In his room."

"The poor boy. I wish he hadn't seen it. It was bad enough for us." She was quiet for a moment, thinking about what happened that morning. "What kind of man shoots another man for no reason?"

"I don't know." Slim started pacing the room again. "I feel like I shot him myself."

"Why, Slim! You couldn't help Jess!"

"I should have warned him sooner."

"That wouldn't have helped anything. We would probably all be dead!" She put her hand to her mouth. "Oh, I didn't mean to say that! Jess isn't dead!"

He put his arm around her. "It's OK, Daisy. It's alright. You know the worst thing about it? I knew better. I knew they weren't bluffing….but I kept hoping he wouldn't shoot. If Jess dies, it's my fault. I could have stopped it."

"Please stop talking like that!" Daisy said appalled. "Jess wouldn't like it at all!"

"He would say the same thing in my place, and you know it." When she didn't answer, he stomped over to the shattered window and stared out. "I hope Mort has caught up with them."

"Does he know what happened?"

"Yeah, I met him in town when I went for Dan. He rode out here with a few men then took off after them. I'd like to be there when he finds them…"

"I think you're needed here."

"Why do you think I'm still here?" Slim snapped, taking his feelings out on her. "I couldn't leave Jess when he…" He choked on the rest of the sentence. "Mort will find that gang without my help."

"Of course he will," Daisy said, trying to sound confident.

They stopped talking, waiting in excruciating silence, until the door finally opened and the doctor came into the room, his sleeves rolled up, his stethoscope hanging around his neck. He looked very tired.

Slim strode over and grabbed him by the arm. "How is he?"

Doc Higgins pulled the door closed and leaned against it. "It's not good, Slim."

"Can I see him?"

"He's out cold. He won't know you're there."

The doctor pulled a bullet out of his pocket and handed it to the rancher. "I've done the best I can," Higgins said grimly, "but I don't know if he'll live through the next hour. I don't know why he's still alive at all. The bullet was right next to his heart. It shattered a rib. That's what kept it from going all the way through."

The bullet seemed to burn like a glowing hot coal into the palm of Slim's hand. He stared down at it, feeling sick. His fist closed around it as the pain of it seared his own heart. Pushing past Higgins, he opened the door and walked like a dead man to the bed where he carefully sat down beside Jess and took his hand.

"Jess," he whispered, agonized, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." In his left hand, he clutched the fiery bullet, and in his right, he held the lifeless, cold hand of his friend who was probably going to die unless a miracle occurred.

END OF CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 4

At the top of the stairs behind the railing, Mike heard every word the doctor said. He wished he'd stayed in his room. He turned around and staggered back to it, feeling like he could barely stand up. At the door, he held onto the doorknob. His room suddenly seemed so strange. Only the gradual recognition of some treasures that were associated with Jess brought him back to a sense of reality. As he stared at the wooden toy rifle hanging on a gun rack on the wall, he remembered how he snuck up on Jess in the barn one time and pretended to shoot him with it. Jess gave him a dressing down he never forgot about never aiming a gun, even a toy one, at someone unless you meant to use it. He didn't really understand what Jess meant until now. A man had shot Jess without warning and for no reason at all.

The boy threw himself on his bed, finally able to cry. "Jess! Why? Why?" he sobbed, beating his fists on the mattress and burying his head in the pillow. "Please, please don't die!"

Absorbed in grief, he didn't hear Daisy come into the room. She sat down beside him on the bed and lovingly stroked his hair and rubbed his back. "Oh, my dear boy," she said tenderly, "I wish you had been spared all this."

Mike turned around and threw his arms around her neck. "Jess isn't going to die, is he Aunt Daisy?" he sobbed."

"Mike! Why are asking about that?"

"I heard the doctor talking."

"Have you been listening?"

"I didn't mean to!" He ran his sleeve over his tear stained face. "But I couldn't stay in my room."

"Look, child," she said, choosing her words carefully and fighting to keep her own composure, "Jess was very badly wounded. He will need all his strength to get well again, but you must never doubt that he will succeed."

"That's not true! You're just trying to trick me."

"It is true," she answered firmly, doubting her own words.

"I don't believe you!"

"You should, Mike."

The boy didn't answer. He clung to Daisy and cried. After everything he'd seen and heard, in his heart, he knew Jess was in terrible danger.

"Go ahead and cry," Daisy said gently, holding him tight. "Maybe it will help you."

"Aunt Daisy, if Jess dies will I have to go to the orphanage?"

Daisy held him away from her so she could look at him. "How did you come up with something like that?"

"I...I don't know."

"Jess is _not_ going to die, Mike but Slim and I are here, too, and no matter what happens, you will always stay here. This is your home. Now don't ever worry about anything like that again."

None of her words took away the boy's anguished fear. He couldn't quit crying. Daisy held him quietly in her arms through repeated bouts of tears, staying with him for the rest of the afternoon. Toward evening, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep. She tucked him in bed with his clothes on so she wouldn't wake him.

Slim and Doc Higgins stayed with Jess. As the day wore on, the wounded man developed a high fever. He never regained full consciousness but restlessly tossed his head back and forth and gasped for air, moaning in pain. Each breath ended in a horrible rattling and wheezing sound that made Slim think his partner was suffocating.

As evening fell, Dan listened to Jess' lungs and heart one more time, leaning over him with the stethoscope. He looked grim. Slim watched, biting his lower lip, scarcely daring to breathe, unconsciously afraid he would take air away from Jess.

When Dan straightened back up, Slim asked, "How is he?"

Doc Higgins glanced up at him but immediately looked down. He couldn't stand to see the pain in Slim's eyes. He shook his head and shrugged helplessly.

"He's not doing well."

"Doc! You got to help him!"

"I'm sorry, Slim, but there's nothing I can do. The way things are right now, I don't think he'll survive the night. All you can do for him is pray."

"You can't be serious." Slim choked on the words as his throat tightened.

"I wouldn't say such a thing if I didn't mean it. You only have to look at Jess to see how serious this is."

Slim's eyes filled with tears. It took a while before he could speak again. Finally, he said, "How about leaving me alone with him for a while." His voice was barely audible.

Higgins nodded sympathetically and with a deep sigh turned to leave the room. At the door, he saw Daisy holding onto the door knob. She was pushing her hand into her stomach, feeling sick and faint. She allowed the doctor to help her to the living room table where she huddled in a chair like a frail, old woman. She'd been helping others all day. Now she needed help herself.

"Doctor, is it true?" Her voice trembled. "Is Jess going to die?"

Higgins avoided meeting her eyes. He knew her to be an extraordinary woman with a streak of steel in her backbone. She'd already experienced a great deal of human suffering as a nurse during the war. She'd lost her son to that war and her husband afterward. At the Sherman Ranch, she was much more than a housekeeper. She was the heart of this unusual family, a mother to all of them, especially Mike.

"Will he really die?" Daisy asked again, her voice trembling.

"Almost certainly, Miss Daisy," the doctor replied somberly.

"This can't be happening! You must be wrong!"

"I'm afraid not."

"Why Jess?" Daisy agonized. "Why him? There was no reason!"

Doc Higgins couldn't answer. Jess was his friend. The doctor was having a hard time making sense of this tragedy, too.

"Miss Daisy, I think you should lie down for a while. You need to rest."

"Lie down?" Daisy looked at him like he was crazy. "Jess is dying. It's like my very own son is dying. I can't lie down!"

"Well, I can't force you, but I want you to stay out here. I need don't need to be distracted right now if I'm to be of any help to Jess."

Daisy stared at him, wanting to contest what he said, but then she took a sharp breath that was more like a sob. "If that will help Jess…."

Doc Higgins went back into the bedroom, but Daisy sat rigidly erect at the table for a long time. Then she got up to pace nervously around the room. When she caught sight of the dried black blood stain on the wooden floor, she saw in her mind's eye the image of Jess lying there as if it had just happened.

"Oh, dear God!" she cried, holding both hands to her face. She staggered to the couch near the cold fireplace, buried her face in the cushions and started crying. She'd finally been granted the relief of tears.

About three hours after midnight, Jess' agony reached a peak. He reared up into Slim's arms as if trying to escape the fire burning inside. Unable to scream, he looked at the rancher with a wide-eyed, terrorized stare.

"This has got to stop!" Slim said. "You've got to give him more laudanum!"

"Laudanum won't do it. It's not strong enough. I'll have to use morphine."

"Just do it! Do whatever will help him!"

"It won't help him, but it'll make things easier - I hope."

Slim didn't need to ask what "easier" meant. He knew that morphine was a powerful drug that depressed the vital systems of the body and in a very weak person made death more likely.

He stood back as the doctor administered the dose and bent to examine him again.

"How is he?' he asked when Higgins straightened up.

"About the same."

The doctor took the stethoscope out of his ears and wiped his face with his hands. He was exhausted. He sank down into a chair breathing heavily while Slim got as close to Jess as he could. During the night, when Jess had trouble breathing, Slim lifted him and lay against the bed's headboard with Jess in his arms. He even adjusted his breathing to Jess' breathing as if that would help his friend in some way.

Toward morning he fell asleep, still holding Jess. He woke up terrified that his partner had died. Jess' head was resting against Slim's chest and he felt cold to the touch. Slim quickly pressed two fingers against the wounded man's carotid artery and was relieved to feel a faint, even pulse. His friend was still alive. "Thank God," he whispered.

Slim carefully slid out of the bed and gently laid Jess down on it, elevating his head with a pillow. He pulled the sheet and blanket over him and brushed the damp hair off of his partner's forehead and the sweat off of his face. The fever had fallen a little, but Jess' condition had not really improved. _"But it's not worse,"_ Slim thought, looking for any ray of hope. _"And Higgins was wrong. He lived through the night."_

He stretched out his cramped body by walking around the small room and woke Dr. Higgins up in the process. The doctor uncurled from the chair he'd slept in, as stiff and cramped as Slim, and went immediately to the bed to examine Jess.

"How's he doing, Doc?" Slim asked.

"He's still in critical condition. It's a miracle he lived through the night. I still don't think he has a chance of surviving this," he said, brutally honest, not wanting to give Slim false hope.

"Well, maybe you're wrong. You were wrong last night. Jess is still alive."

"I know. And believe me, I'm glad about that kind of error. And I truly hope I'm wrong now."

END OF CHAPTER 4


	5. Chapter 5

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
Chapter 5

Doc Higgins was the only one that had an appetite that morning at breakfast. After some discussion around the table, it was decided that it would be best all around if Mike went to school today. There was nothing for him to do at the ranch and being at school might distract him from his anxiety.

He left with a heavy heart. Going to school wasn't his idea. He didn't want to leave Jess even for a minute. He let Browny fall into an ambling walk, unaware and uncaring about the passage of time. All he could think about was Jess. Why had that man shot him? He couldn't understand it. Why would anyone enjoy hurting someone else? But deep in his own heart and for the first time ever, he himself began to wish for someone's death - the death of the man who shot Jess.

When he finally got to town, he turned into the street that led to the school and the enclosed pasture for the horses of the students who rode in from the area's farms and ranches. He slowly unsaddled his pony, knowing he was probably late for class but not caring.

Miss Finch, the school's teacher, had already rung the final bell to call the students inside. Everyone but Mike was taking their seats. Miss Finch saw the boy out in the pasture carefully taking the bridle off his pony. He hung it over the fence as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. Shouldering his school books, he paused to stroke Browny's nose and to pat his neck one more time, giving the impression he didn't want to leave him at all and might be thinking about getting back on him and riding him home. Reluctantly, Mike started walking across the schoolyard, staring at the ground and kicking at some rocks in his path. He usually sparkled with good humor and a certain amount of cheerful mischievousness. Today he looked withdrawn and dejected.

He passed by Miss Finch without speaking and sat down quietly at his desk without taking part in the usual early morning chatter. He stared at the blackboard as if he were in a trance and didn't seem to notice when class began.

"Mike," Miss Finch said kindly, "are you daydreaming?" When he didn't respond or even acknowledge her, she said more sharply, "Mike! I asked you a question!"

Mike looked blankly at her. "Yes, Miss Finch?" His voice was husky.

"I asked if you were daydreaming," she repeated patiently.

"No, Miss Finch," he answered softly, his voice shaky.

"Are you sure about that?" She walked down the row to stop at his desk. "Aren't you feeling well?"

"I'm OK," he said in a monotone, staring at the bundle of books in front of him.

"Mike! Look at me!"

After a long moment, Mike clenched his teeth and raised his head. The teacher was startled by his appearance. He was pale and his eyes were swollen and red.

"There's something wrong, child," she said anxiously. "Won't you tell me what's the matter?"

"Please, Miss Finch, I...I can't," he stammered, close to tears.

"Then it must be something really bad."

Mike's mouth tightened and he nodded silently, tears in his eyes. He just wanted to run away from Miss Finch and from his classmates who were staring at him with undisguised curiosity. He couldn't explain his behavior any more than they could. And he couldn't talk to anybody here about his worries and his fears, especially not about the memory of what happened yesterday, the terrible violence and what had happened to Jess. How could he? He could barely talk about it at home.

"Well," Miss Finch said, relenting when she realized how close to tears he was, "maybe you can talk to me about it later."

Mike didn't answer her and he didn't look at her, either. It didn't really matter because wherever he looked, he only saw Jess' contorted face and his bloody chest. That awful site haunted him as persistently as the scream he heard the moment the bullet pierced Jess' body.

Miss Finch guessed that Mike's unusual behavior and his miserable mental state had to be caused by something serious, but she didn't think it was caused by trouble at home. He was one of her students who seemed to be part of a happy family. In particular, the young teacher had always admired how Jess Harper could cope with the boy's youthful exuberance and mischievousness without resorting to physical violence like so many parents in this area did. She'd heard Mike's foster father had a stubborn streak of his own and she knew he had something of a mysterious past, but he seemed friendly and open whenever she'd been around him. She suspected he might be hiding a soft heart behind that tough exterior.

Whatever had caused Mike's behavior, Miss Finch thought it would be better to give him some time to settle down rather than confronting him now. If she was still concerned about him at the end of the day, she would ride out to the Sherman Ranch and talk to Mr. Harper about the boy.

In the meantime, there was a class to teach.

There was only one thing the children were thinking about this morning: the circus that was in town yesterday. Miss Finch asked them to share their experiences with each other. Everyone wanted to go first, except for Mike who didn't even raise his hand. At last Miss Finch called on him directly, hoping to break him out of his lethargy.

"How about you, Mike?" she asked. "Did you go to the circus?"

"Circus?"

"Yes, my young daydreamer. Did you go or not?"

"No."

"You didn't? Well, did something happen that kept you from going?"

"No."

"Can you tell why you didn't go? Didn't you have someone to go with?" she asked, still trying to get him to talk.

Mike just looked at her.

"Mike! Why didn't you go?"

"Because….." Miss Finch could tell he was looking for an excuse. "...because I didn't want to!"

"But you were looking forward to it when we talked about it on Monday! And I let the class out yesterday just so everyone could attend."

"That was a long time ago…." His voice was barely audible.

"That's a strange thing for a boy like you to say. You were so excited about the circus! There must be a reason you didn't go. Don't you want to tell me about it?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore!" Mike snapped, suddenly angry.

His change of attitude took Miss Finch by surprise. This wasn't like Mike at all, but instead of reprimanding him, she decided to change tactics.

"Alright, class. I'm going to give a homework assignment. Please write a short essay about what you liked about your visit to the circus. And for those of you that didn't get to go, write about why you didn't go and what you did instead." She took a covert look at Mike to see how he reacted to this, but he seemed no more interested in writing about the circus than he had in talking about it.

When she dismissed the class for a break, the children burst out of the schoolhouse in a noisy gaggle, all of them except Mike. He shuffled out head bent, shoulders drooping. Miss Finch was beginning to get seriously worried about him. She watched as he retreated to a quiet corner of the schoolyard and sat down on a big rock where he started doodling in the sand with a stick he'd picked up.

Miss Finch followed him. When her shadow fell over him, he looked up but kept hitting the stick against the ground, sending up tiny sprays of dust.

"Why aren't you playing with the other children? You usually do."

"I don't want to."

"Mike, I can tell there's something wrong. We're alone now, and you can tell me about it, whatever it is. Are you having trouble at home? Do you want me to talk to your foster father about anything?"

Mike stared at her like he didn't understand what she said. Then in a shaky voice, he stammered, "Jess...he...he…" He dropped his head. "He can't do anything. It's not his fault."

"Well then, whose fault is it? And why can't Jess help? You know, you're not usually so hard to talk to. If you don't want to ask him for help yourself, then I must speak to him unless you can tell me what's making you so unhappy."

"Please, Miss Finch!" Mike was desperately alarmed by her threat. "I can't! I can't talk to you about it! Just leave me alone!"

"I'm just trying to help you!"

"You can't help me! Nobody can help me! Nobody!"

"At least let me try!"

"I don't want you to try! I don't need any help!"

"Well, if you don't want to talk to me, I can't force you," she said and walked away, but she kept an eye on him.

When the bell rang, Mike was the last to come in. He looked as if he'd been crying, but Miss Finch didn't comment on it. She told the children to open their history books and asked Peggy Hines to read a section about George Washington crossing the Delaware during the Revolutionary War.

When the girl finished her paragraph, she called on Mike knowing he hadn't been paying attention. "Would you start reading where Peggy left off?" she asked him.

"Reading?" he repeated absently.

"Yes. Where Peggy left off."

"I…I wasn't listening."

"Mike!" she said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I know something is bothering you, but it's very rude you of to ignore your fellow students like that!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Finch." He looked down. "I won't do it again.'

"I hope not. Now start reading please, the first paragraph on page twenty-one."

He got through the rest of the day somehow even though Miss Finch had to call him to attention several more times, but he only tried a little harder when Miss Finch threatened him with detention.

When class was dismissed at one o'clock, Mike grabbed his school books and dashed out of the school house ahead of everybody else. Miss Finch could only wonder where this burst of energy came from. He raced to his pony, put on the bridle and saddle in record time and was mounted and on the road before any other students got to the pasture.

Miss Finch watched him go. One thing was clear to her: there was no trouble at home or he wouldn't have been in such a hurry to get there. She would give him another day. Children often had strange moods adults didn't always understand. Maybe he would be back to normal tomorrow. If not, she would ride out to the Sherman Ranch to have a talk with them about Mike's odd behavior.

END OF CHAPTER 5


	6. Chapter 6

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 6

Mike had never gotten home from school earlier than he did today. Daisy quickly sliced a couple of pieces of bread and made him a sandwich. Mike ate it without tasting it and gulped down a glass of milk, ignoring Daisy's admonishment to eat more slowly.

"Can I go see Jess now?" he asked, wide-eyed and ready to jump up from the table. "Can I, please?"

"Yes, but just for a little while." She'd checked on Jess while the boy was eating to make sure she could let him go in. "But you must be very quiet so you don't disturb him."

"I won't say a word. I promise. I just want to see him."

The boy crept into the bedroom, tiptoed to a chair beside the bed and sat down, clasping his hands together as if he were praying. Daisy watched for a few minutes. When she was satisfied he wouldn't disturb Jess, she went back to the kitchen.

Mike wasn't able to resist his overpowering need to touch his foster father. He reached over and picked up Jess' hand lying on top of the covers. It was limp and lifeless, but it still gave the boy a profound sense of comfort just to hold it.

He lost track of time as he sat there, silent and still, full of fear, watching Jess for the slightest movement or sign of pain. Daisy found him like this when she came back into the room and told him it was time to leave.

"Please, Aunt Daisy! Let me stay a little longer. Please!" he begged, clinging more tightly to Jess' hand.

Daisy sighed. "Just for a few more minutes then, but no longer."

Mike turned back to the motionless figure on the bed. Tears filled his eyes at the thought of leaving. All of a sudden, Jess' limp hand came to life, twitching spasmodically. He moaned, then began to gasp and wheeze.

"Aunt Daisy!" Mike shouted, jumping up, terrified, as he watched Jess' agonized struggle to breathe. The next moment, Daisy was beside him, pushing the boy aside so she could help the struggling man.

"Mike!" she cried, "Run as fast as you can and get Slim!"

The boy flew out of the room, raced through the living room, jumped off the porch and ran toward the barn where Slim was working on a heavy wagon wheel.

"Sim!" Mike yelled as he ran, "You got to come quick! Jess needs you!"

Slim dropped his wrench, strode over to the pump, washed and dried his hands and ran toward Jess' room. Mike ran behind him.

"You stay out here!" Slim ordered as the boy started to follow him into the bedroom.

Going over to Jess, Slim quickly assessed the situation. His partner could barely breathe. The rancher slipped an arm behind Jess's back and held him upright as a choking cough racked his body. Daisy handed Slim a towel as Jess finally coughed up a mixture of mucus and dark blood. After another fit of coughing, Jess, in desperate pain and fighting to breathe, lay panting in Slim's arms. Exhausted, the wounded man finally fell back into unconsciousness.

"He was so quiet earlier…" Daisy said in an odd, hoarse voice as she gathered up the blood stained towel. "I was afraid…" She didn't finish the sentence - she knew that some people grew very peaceful and quiet as death approached. Now she was relieved that Jess was only deeply unconsciousness and was spared the awareness of his misery.

"You go rest for a while," Slim said. "I'll stay with him."

Daisy left without protest, knowing Slim wanted to be alone with his friend - and with his grief for him.

Back in the living room, she tried to distract Mike from his worries by keeping him busy. He spent the rest of the afternoon outside and in the barn, listlessly performing the tasks she assigned to him.

* * *

 _SUMMARY_

 _In this section, Mike does a little bit work but soon goes up to the hayloft where he thinks back on his days at the orphanage, how he was abandoned there as an infant with no name, how he was mistreated there and how he ran away. He remembers how Jess found him hiding in the hayloft, how Jess fought to became his official foster father and how profoundly important the relationship is to both of them because both of them lost their families when they were very young and because of a natural, mysterious spark of connection between them. The story continues as the family struggles to take care of a badly wounded Jess._

* * *

That night was as bad for Jess and the rest of the family as the previous one had been. Daisy slept - or at least tried to sleep - on the couch in the living room. From sheer emotional exhaustion, Mike fell asleep in his own bed.

Slim stayed with Jess. The wounded man's fever was getting worse. Delirious, he tossed and turned and sometimes tried to get up. Sometimes he lay motionless on the bed, staring at Slim without recognizing him, his eyes wide as if he were paralyzed by fear of something only he could see. But at other times he would start yelling and would cling to Slim, who held him and talked to him to calm him down until Jess collapsed with exhaustion and got so quiet the rancher feared he was dead. Then Slim would feel for the pulse in Jess' neck, relief washing over him when he found it. Worst of all were the coughing attacks that rolled over the wounded man like an avalanche and came close to suffocating him even as the fever ravaged through his body like a wildfire.

The night, with its bouts of anguish and terror, its fight between life and death, finally passed. When dawn began to break, Slim found it hard to believe Jess had survived.

The doctor, who arrived early that morning, couldn't understand it either. As he examined his patient, he was astonished that Jess had stubbornly defied death for so long.

For Slim, only one thing was important. "How is this going to go on?" He asked, his voice strained and shaky. "He's in more pain than any man can stand - and I can't help him!"

"You won't be able to help him at all if you break down. You're taking a beating yourself. You haven't slept since it happened. And you're blaming yourself for letting it happen!"

"I did let it happen!" Slim shouted at him, too tired to control himself. "I let him be shot down like he was a mangy dog! He's going through hell now because I didn't stop it!"

"How do you think you could have done that?"

Slim's face crumbled. He turned his back on the doctor. "I don't know," he said in quiet despair. "I don't know. I should have done something. Jess would have."

"How about Miss Daisy? After they killed you, they would have killed her without thinking twice about it. And they still would have shot Jess. What would Mike have done then? If the situation had been reversed, Jess would have done the same thing you did. It would be him standing here blaming himself instead of you." The doctor fiddled with his stethoscope, trying to think of something to say that would get through Slim's stubborn guilt. "Jess would never blame you for what happened. You know that."

Slim turned around and squared off to face Higgins. "Well, I blame myself," he said, clenching his jaw. "But I'm not going to let him die. I won't let him die. I don't how, but I won't let death have him."

"Slim," the doctor pleaded for him to be reasonable, "you're just kidding yourself. I can't stop what's going to happen and you can't either."

"You think he's going to die."

"I think the odds are against him. And even if he does pull through…"

"Well, go ahead. Say what you got to say."

Higgins sighed. "Even if he lives, I doubt if he ever recovers completely."

The furrows on Slim's forehead deepened. "What do you mean?" he asked, already suspecting what the answer would be.

"His lungs. The bullet itself ripped through lung tissue, and the shattered rib sent splinters everywhere. Even if he survives, that kind of damage will take a long time to heal - if it ever does."

"I don't want to know all the details," Slim snapped, irrationally angry. "I already know how bad it is."

"Slim, you need to get some rest. How are you going to be able to help Jess? Even a few hours of sleep will help. Daisy can stay with him. With her nursing experience, he couldn't be in better hands."

Higgins picked up his black bag and headed for the door.

"You're leaving already?" Slim asked, alarmed.

"I have to. I have to ride out to see Mrs. Horsley. She's having some serious problems since her baby was born. Then I have to go the Bar-X to check on Mr. McAllister. I'll probably spend the night there, but I'll come here in the morning to see how Jess' is doing. I don't think I'll be able to do anything more for him than I did today." Higgins took another long look at his patient. "He's not likely going to be better than he is now."

"But what if he needs you…"

"I know it's hard for you to hear this, but even if I stayed here, I couldn't do anything more for him than you or Daisy can. I wish I could. And you better get some rest," he admonished before he turned to walk out the door.

After the doctor left, Slim realized the truth of what Higgins said. He let Daisy stay with Slim and he went to the study and sank down in the leather chair in front of his desk. The account books were right where he left them when the outlaws invaded, but on top of them lay Jess' rolled up gun belt that Daisy had brought in from the living room. Slim slowly reached out and drew the walnut handled Colt from its holster. He opened the carriage and spun it around. The terror of that morning flooded back. His hand closed convulsively around the revolver and a stab of unbearable pain tore at his heart.

"Oh, God!" he cried out. "Help him! Please help him! Now!" When he could breathe again, he gently laid the gun on the desk. Exhausted, he leaned back and closed his burning eyes. "Please," he whispered. "Please!"

END OF CHAPTER 6


	7. Chapter 7

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 7

Mike was more reluctant to go to school that morning than he had been the day before. That he got there at all was due to Browny who knew the way by heart and was motivated by the memory of the lush green schoolyard pasture.

During morning classes, Miss Finch noticed that Mike wasn't concentrating any better than he had yesterday. He was apathetic and sat at his desk with his eyes lowered, his thoughts somewhere else. She repeatedly called him to attention but without lasting success.

Mike didn't even try to keep his mind on his lessons. What he really wanted to do was pack up his schoolbooks and go home. During the break, he once again went off by himself but instead of sitting on the big rock, he went out to the pasture where Browny was. He climbed the pasture gate and sat on the top rail, dangling his legs for a while until he fumbled in his jacket and found an apple he'd brought from home. Holding it out, he called Browny over to him. The horse trotted to him and happily munched on the apple as Mike stroke him gently on the forehead, remembering how their friendship had begun two years ago.

Shortly after he'd come to the Sherman Ranch, Jess put him on a horse and taught him to ride. Mike loved it and copied Jess' every move. He admired the way his foster father could master a horse. He could require the most difficult things from an animal and make it look like it was the horse's idea. Mike never tired of watching him train the animals, and by watching him, absorbed Jess' way with them. He soon started wanting a horse of his own and used his upcoming birthday as a bargaining tool to get one.

"Please, Jess!" he begged. "For my birthday! I don't want anything else. Just one! Just one for me! Please?"

"Well, I'll think on it. But - if I get you one, you got to be responsible for it. Ownin' a horse is a pretty big responsibility. You got to take care of it every day, not just when you feel like ridin' it."

Mike, of course, gave him his solemn promise that he would be the best horse owner ever.

Just before the boy's birthday, Jess rode over to Billings to see about some stallions. He came home the day before the birthday, and with him, he brought a lively Indian pony. Mike had gone with Daisy to visit a neighbor, so Jess showed the horse off to Slim first.

Slim was skeptical. "That might be a good horse for you but maybe not for Mike. He's still learning."

"Well, how can a boy learn if he ain't got a good horse?" Jess reasoned, and Browny stayed to become a member of the family.

That night Jess hid the pony in the barn. After breakfast the next day, Jess told the boy to go with to see the "rocking horse" he'd bought him for his birthday. Mike was terribly disappointed but dragged along beside Jess to the barn where, to his delight, he discovered a lively Indian pony looking at him with big brown eyes that seemed to know he and Mike already belonged to each other.

"Is he really for me?" Mike asked, looking up at Jess like he was Santa Claus himself.

"Nobody else has a birthday today," Jess said, smiling. "Too bad I couldn't wrap him up and put a bow on him. Come over here and let him smell you so he can get to know who you are."

Jess put an apple in the boy's hand. When Mike held it out, the spirited pony gave him a shove that almost knocked him over. Their friendship was sealed.

"Can I ride him?" Mike pleaded.

"Anytime you want to. He's yours. I just want to teach you how to handle him first."

Jess rode with him in the beginning to make sure he knew that there was more to owning a horse sitting in the saddle and holding onto the saddle horn. He taught him everything he knew about how to keep the pony under control. He taught the boy how to get the horse to walk, canter and gallop and how to hold himself during each of these movements. Mike learned never to run the pony to the point of exhaustion, and when the ride was over, he was taught to always tend to the horse before he took care of himself. Jess told the boy he could ask him about anything he couldn't handle or didn't understand, that there was always more to learn. Soon, Jess was confident enough in Mike's horsemanship skills that he let him ride Browny alone whenever he wanted to. When Christmas came around that year, Mike's happiness was made perfect by finding a new saddle and bridle underneath the Christmas tree.

Now, petting Browny in the schoolyard pasture, he knew he would trade everything, Browny and all, in return for Jess' life. He concentrated hard on his foster father and almost felt like he was standing beside him in the barn with his arm on his shoulders when a shadow fell over him. Startled, he looked around to see Miss Finch standing beside him. Her presence brought him instantly back into the present. With a stab of horror, he realized he might never stand beside Jess again, might never again feel his arm around his shoulder. The boy stared aghast at his teacher while these terrible thoughts flashed through his mind.

"Mike," the teacher said, "do you need a second invitation to come to class today? Recess is over."

"Sorry, Miss Finch." He bit his lip and slid off the fence. "I didn't hear the bell."

"I rang it twice. Have you been daydreaming again?"

"I was thinking," the boy corrected her and gave his pony the rest of the apple.

"You've been doing that a lot lately. Look, Mike, don't you want to tell me what's wrong? You're not acting like yourself. You're not paying attention in class, and you're not playing with the other students like you usually do. And now you're giving your snack to this horse!"

"This ain't just any horse" Mike snapped at her, totally forgetting who he was talking to as well as the grammar Daisy had tried to drill into him. "This is Browny and he's my friend! And it's my business who I give my snack to! And just so you know, I brought this apple for him and not for me!"

"How dare you speak to me like that!" Miss Finch exclaimed, shocked and angry at the same time.

"It's…. It's… I'm sorry." Mike hung his head, scared by his own behavior. "But...you don't understand. Why can't you just leave me alone? I have a lot to think about."

"How can I understand when you won't tell me what's bothering you?"

"I can't tell you. Just leave me alone!" Mike scooted around her and ran back to the schoolhouse. Miss Finch stared after him, more puzzled than ever by his outburst.

Back in class, Mike's behavior tested the little tolerance she had left. He looked blankly at her when she called on him, even when she asked him easy questions about subjects he already knew. He seemed to be lost in a world of his own.

Miss Finch reached the end of her patience. After asking him to solve a simple mathematical problem three times and getting no response, she walked over to his desk and spoke sharply to him. "Michael Harper! Look at me!" The boy winced as if he had been slapped. "You're disturbing this class more by your disinterest than if you were talking out of turn. Unless you give me a good reason why you can't participate like everyone else, you'll have to stay after class today until I release you."

Mike was terrified by this threat. "But….I can't! I have to go home!"

"Unless you explain yourself this very minute, you'll be staying here until I tell you can go."

"Please, Miss Finch. I can't! I really can't!"

"You'll do as I say." She was angry now, her usually fair complexion flushing a bright red. "And I intend to talk to your foster father about you. This behavior can't go on!"

"You can't do that!" Mike cried in horror at the thought of her going to the ranch and disturbing Jess. "You can't! You really can't!"

"We'll see about that! And you'll be staying after class!"

As she turned and walked back to the front of the class, Mike used his shirt sleeve to wipe off the tears streaming down his face. Miss Finch saw him crying and took some deep breaths to calm herself down. Feeling guilty about losing her temper with him, she left him alone for the rest of the class. When she took up the homework essays about the circus, she noticed Mike had written nothing at all in his notebook. Her frustration with him returned.

As soon as one o'clock came, Miss Finch dismissed the class. Everyone bundled up their school books and headed for the door, Mike included. Miss Finch blocked his path.

"You're in detention," she said with quiet authority. "I want you to return to your desk and…" she handed him his notebook, "...write the essay you did not write last night. And then, maybe, you'd like to talk with me about what's bothering you."

Mike returned to his desk but he was the one getting angry now. For a quarter of an hour, he sat without moving, making no effort at all to write the essay.

"If I were you," Miss Finch said at last, "I would get to work."

"I can't think of anything to say," he snapped.

"Then you need to try harder. We'll both stay here until you do or until you tell me why you won't." She walked over to the front door of the room and locked it, slipping the key in her pocket.

 _"_ _We'll see about that!"_ Mike mocked her inwardly. He had no intention of writing an essay or telling her anything. He just wanted to get out of there. He'd heard a bird chirping through a window that was cracked open and had developed a plan. He waited until the teacher went into a little side room to get some supplies. As soon as she disappeared, he gathered his bundle of books, ran to the window, shoved it high and jumped into schoolyard below. Racing to the pasture, he threw the bridle and his bundle of books over the horn of the saddle that was straddling the fence. Then he threw the saddle on Browny and cinched it tight. Swinging himself up, he grabbed the pony's mane in both hands and dug the stirrups into her side. Startled, Browny took off running across the pasture as a frantic Miss Finch ran out of the schoolhouse, crying, "Mike! Come back here!" At full gallop, Browny soared over the pasture's wooden fence near the road to town with Mike clinging to his mane.

Miss Finch stood looking after pony and boy as they disappeared in a cloud of dust toward home. There was no question about it now. She would ride out to the Sherman ranch as soon as she could to talk to Jess Harper.

END OF CHAPTER 7


	8. Chapter 8

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 8

While Mike was having troubles at school, at the ranch Slim dozed off for a few hours of sleep in the big leather chair at his desk. The arrival of the noon stage woke him up.

"Sherman Ranch!" he heard the driver shout above the racket the coach and horses made. "Fifteen minute stop!"

Groggy and stiff, Slim got up and went out to change the team. The passengers climbed out to stretch their legs, but none of them wanted coffee. That was alright with Slim. For a lot of reasons, he no longer wanted strangers in the house. He exchanged a few words with the driver, unhitched the horses and replaced them with fresh ones, but when the stage finally rattled off, he immediately went back inside to check on Jess. The wounded man was out cold. There was nothing Slim could do for him. Daisy volunteered to stay with him until the rancher could take a shower and shave.

When Slim saw himself in the washstand mirror, he knew he looked pretty bad. His face was gaunt and strained, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he felt better now that he'd had some sleep.

When he got back to Jess' room, Daisy left to prepare lunch, and Slim sank into the chair beside his badly wounded friend, not liking how unnaturally still he was. In the silence, he heard the front door open and close and knew that Mike was home from school. He heard Daisy intercept the boy and reassure him that Jess was still holding his own before she firmly ordered him to the kitchen to help her with lunch.

Kitchen work was never much fun for Mike anyway, but today it was intolerable. He'd run from away from school just so he could see Jess and now he'd been ordered to the kitchen instead. If only he were an adult so he could do what he wanted to!

"How was school today?" Daisy asked, trying to start a conversation with the unusually quiet boy.

"Boring," was only Mike's response but his face told another story.

Daisy's sharp eyes didn't miss much. "Umm, that sounds like there's more that could be said," she said.

"Well...Miss Finch made me stay after school."

"Mike! Daisy exclaimed, truly surprised. "That's not like you!"

"I couldn't help it! She wanted me to tell her why I wasn't paying attention. But I couldn't! I couldn't tell her about Jess! I just couldn't! And I couldn't stay after class either! I had to get home! I was afraid Jess…. I had to come home! And she said she wants to come talk to Jess…"

"Calm down, Mike. I need to understand what you're saying. Miss Finch wants to come here to talk to Jess about your behavior? And you ran away from school? You know that wasn't the right thing to do!"

"I didn't know what else to do! I had to get home!"

"No matter what happened, you can't just run away from things. You should have spoken up and told Miss Finch that Jess was hurt."

"How could I? I couldn't tell her about what happened here! I can't tell anybody!"

Daisy face softened. "I know, Mike, but Miss Finch didn't understand why you weren't paying attention and that's why you got in trouble."

"You won't tell Slim will you?"

"No. That's something you must do yourself. After all, Miss Finch will come out to the ranch to talk to us about what happened. And when she comes, you will need to apologize to her."

"I _am_ kind of sorry….but maybe she won't come."

"Well," Daisy said and smiled at him, "why don't we both put our thinking caps on and decide what you should say to her?"

"You're not mad at me?"

"Not at all. But you must promise not to do something like that again. A man doesn't run away from his problems. They always catch up with you if you don't face them."

"I know," Mike nodded, feeling guilty. Jess would have told him the same thing.

"Now, cheer up and go see Jess. I can finish up in here by myself."

"Can I really go see Jess?" His eyes brightened. "Really?"

"Yes, you may! Go on now!" she said, shooing him out.

Mike ran pell mell through the living room but stopped at the opened door of the bedroom where Jess lay and looked in. "Slim," he said, suddenly standing very still, "can I come in?"

Slim was placing a cold compress on Jess' forehead. He looked up and said, "Sure. Just take it easy."

Mike didn't need a second invitation. He quietly walked to Slim's side. His eyes fixed on Jess' grey face. The shadow of death still hung over the wounded man's sunken cheeks and closed eyes. Seeing his foster father so fragile and weak made Mike's throat close up and his stomach twist into a tight knot of fear.

He tugged at Slim's sleeve and looked up at the tall rancher. "Is Jess getting any better?" he asked, pleading for news that would make Jess' condition less terrifying.

"Not much," Slim said, "but he's holding on."

"Then he won't die, right? He's going to get well, right?"

"Don't you doubt it for a minute!" He smiled down at the boy. "Jess isn't an easy man to keep down."

As Mike gazed at his unconscious foster father, the desire to reach out and touch him became an overpowering need. "Slim…" he asked hesitantly, "could I sit with Jess and hold his hand? Please? I won't bother him."

Slim swiped his hand across his mouth, thinking about it. Then he said, "OK, but don't do anything that would hurt him," and he sat down in a chair beside the window to keep watch.

Causing Jess any more pain was the last thing on Mike's mind. He very carefully eased onto the edge of the bed and took Jess' limp hand with both of his own. He fixed his eyes on Jess's face and seemed to fall into a trance, ignoring the world around him. The world he knew had collapsed anyway. Only Jess' survival could restore it. The boy slipped to the floor on his knees beside the bed, gently laid his head next to Jess', and closed his eyes as if he were falling asleep. Slim let him do it - Mike clearly wasn't going to disturb the wounded man.

Mike didn't look up when Daisy came into the room to tell Slim she was going to the laundry room but after she left the rancher got up and went to the window. He'd heard the rattle of wheels coming toward the house and was about to reach for his gun, suspicious of unknown visitors. He was relieved to see Miss Finch's small buggy pulling up to the hitching post. Making sure everything was OK with Jess, he went to to the front door, leaving the bedroom door open so he could hear if either Jess or Mike called him.

When he opened the door, Miss Finch was looking around in wonder at the shattered window and charred lace curtains. Slim's brow furrowed but he spoke gently to her. "Miss Finch! What brings you out here?"

"Hello, Mr. Sherman," she replied, her voice formal. "May I come in for a moment?"

"I guess so..." he said, sounding a lot more positive than he felt. "Daisy's out back. I'll go get her…."

"No, I don't want to disturb her. I really would like to speak to Mr. Harper."

Slim's face darkened. "I'm sorry, but you can't do that right now."

"Oh?" Miss Finch was surprised. "Is he away from home?"

"He's here." Slim's mouth tightened.

"Then why can't I speak to him?"

"What's this about?" Slim said abruptly. "Maybe I can help you."

"I don't think so. I need to talk to him."

"Well, he can't talk to you. I'll have to do," he said, on the verge of being rude.

His attitude and evasiveness reminded the teacher of Mike's recent behavior. A flush reddened her cheeks again. "This is important!" she snapped. "It's about Mike."

"About Mike!" It was Slim's turn to be surprised. "What about him?"

"I really think I need to talk to Mr. Harper. He's his official guardian. It's...it's not that easy to explain."

Towering over the young teacher, Slim studied her with a frown, considering how to handle the situation. Making a decision, he stepped aside. "You better come on in then," he said. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

She reluctantly accepted the invitation. As she walked toward the table, she glanced through the opened door of the room near the stairs and saw a man lying on a bed. Mike was kneeling on the floor beside him, holding his hand. Understanding struck her like a bolt of lightning. "Oh!" she said, shocked. "Oh! Mr. Harper is ill!"

Slim followed her gaze, realizing she could see into the bedroom. There was nothing he could do now but make the best of things. "It's worse than that, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean? Mike is in there with him! I hope it's not contagious!"

"No, it's not contagious."

"An accident?!"

"No…"

"Mr. Sherman!" the teacher asked in alarm. "What happened here? Mike has been acting so strangely…."

"Look, Miss Finch, if you'll just have a seat, I'll explain…" He sat down at the table across from her and took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy for him to tell or her to hear.

'"That's horrible!" the shocked teacher exclaimed at the end of his brief description of what had happened to Jess. "But, what about Mike? Where was he?"

A muscle jumped in Slim's jaw. "Upstairs, hiding behind the railing. He saw it all."

"Dear God…," She looked sick. "This is terrible."

Slim nodded, looking down at the tablecloth. "It's a nightmare. And if Jess dies…" He glanced up at her, his eyes full of grief. "If Jess dies…" He took a shaky breath. "If Jess dies, a part of that boy will die, too."

"Should he be in there with him?" she asked, looking at Slim anxiously. "He means so much to Mike... I wonder if that's the best thing for him?"

"I don't know." Slim shrugged helplessly. "He's been part of everything else that's happened. I think he needs to be close to him, to touch him. It would break his heart if I tried to keep him away now."

"Maybe you're right." Miss Finch looked past Slim into the bedroom. She could see Mike kneeling by the bed, his head close to Jess'. "I don't know either."

Miss Anna Marie Finch had only been in the West for a little over a year. During that time she'd learned what a rugged life people had out here. Sheriff Corey and other lawmen like him tried hard to enforce law and order, but there were still too many random gunfights and senseless killings. Outlaw gangs roamed the Territory, robbed stagecoaches and banks, then disappeared into the vast open country only to raid somewhere else when they ran out of money. She'd heard people talk about the violence in the area and read about it the newspaper, but she'd never been this close to it before.

Seeing her distress and guessing it wasn't only the boy's experience that was troubling her, Slim said, "You know, Mike was looking forward to that circus you let him out of school to go to. If things had been different, you and Jess might have gone with him." Miss Finch shot a look at him, her face flushing again at the implication in his words. "It might not be any of my business," Slim plowed on, "but I think you might like him - Jess, I mean." He wasn't sure he should be saying this to her, but he was too tired to stop. It felt good to talk to someone else who cared about his partner.

Miss Finch quickly regained her composure, but her face softened. "We all like Jess - very much," she said, sensing Slim's need to talk. "I wish I had known about this before Mike ran away."

"Ran away?"

The teacher nodded. "I'm afraid I forced him into it. He's been distracted and rude for the last two days and he wasn't doing his work. I made him stay after school today - but I understand now. He had to get home to see about Jess."

"It wasn't your fault. We should have let you know what was going on. I'll talk to him. He can't start running away from things."

"I don't think that's what he was doing. He can't run from this," she said, looking toward the bedroom where Mike was stilling clinging to Jess' hand.

Slim followed her gaze. "No," he said, "he can't. None of us can. I wish we could."

"Mr. Sherman," Miss Finch said gently, "I think it would be best if Mike didn't come to school for the next few days. He can't concentrate until he knows Jess is out of danger. He really needs to be here."

Slim took a deep breath and let it out. "I think you're right. Thanks for understanding."

"I'm glad I came. I wanted to know what was bothering Mike but I had no idea the trouble all of you are having to deal with."

"I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself for now, at least until Sheriff Corey and the posse come back."

"I won't tell a soul!" Miss Finch assured him. "Do you think the sheriff will find the gunmen?"

"I don't think so. They had too much of a head start. If they headed north toward Canada, they would be over the border before anybody caught up with them."

Miss Finch felt a frisson of fear. "Well, if the Sheriff can't catch them, I hope they stay far away from Laramie."

"They probably will, but there's no guarantee." He looked at her with concern. "I'd ride with you back into town, but I can't leave Jess. Why don't you wait for the next stagecoach? It'll be here in a couple of hours."

The teacher smiled. "I'm not that afraid, Mr. Sherman," she said and rose to go.

When Slim walked her out, he saw a big chestnut gelding tied behind her buggy. "You brought Alamo back!" he said, relieved to see that his horse was home again.

"When I went to the livery stable, Mr. Carter asked me to bring him to you - and bring his horse back if you don't need it."

Slim helped her up into the little carriage seat. "I don't need it. I'll tell Mike to go get him. He owes you an apology anyway."

"It's alright, Mr. Sherman. Don't bother him."

"I think he'll feel better if he makes things right with you." Slim smiled at her. "I'm glad you came. Goodbye."

He hurried back to the bedroom where he had to shake a still kneeling Mike to get his attention. "Come on, Tiger. There's somebody you need to talk to."

"I got to leave already?" Mike replied, raising his head and looking dazed. Holding on to Jess' hand had just started to make him feel safe again.

"You can come back, but Miss Finch is out front. She needs your help, and so do I. She brought Alamo with her. And she's going to take Mr. Carter's horse back to town with her. Could you take care of getting those horses where they need to be?"

Mike only heard the name. "Miss Finch? She's here?"

"Yeah. She's out front. And she told me what happened at school."

Mike winced and held Jess' hand tighter. "I didn't want to run away, Slim! I really didn't! I had to!" He looked at Jess as if he were seeking shelter from him. "I had to!"

"I know Mike. I told her why you did what you did. And believe it or not, she understands now. I told her what happened. She's real sorry she didn't know before. She just wishes you would've told her what was going on."

"I can't talk about it until I talk to Jess! I can't! I just can't."

"Nobody's going to make you do that. I've told her what she needs to know. I should've done that before you went back to school. And you don't have to go back until Jess is better."

"You're not mad at me?"

"No, partner, I'm not mad. Neither is Miss Finch. But you do need to apologize to her. And we both need your help with those horses. I'll stay with Jess until you get back."

"I can really come back?"

"Sure you can. But wash your hands first!"

"OK!" He left the room, feeling a little better, even a little proud that Slim needed his help. But when he saw Miss Finch his stomach tightened up again. It was like he was about to jump off a rock into deep water. He deliberately stared at the ground instead of looking at his teacher and kept his distance as he circled around the buggy to unhitch Alamo.

Miss Finch wasn't having it. She called out a friendly, "Hello, Mike!" and waved at him.

"Hello, Miss Finch," he mumbled without looking at her and ran to Alamo who startled and jerked on the rope that was tying him to the buggy. Mike felt some relief, thinking that would be all the talking he had to do but the knot on the rope had tightened, and he got stuck trying to unravel it.

Miss Finch turned toward him, leaning out of the carriage to get his attention. "Mike," said, "I want to talk to you…"

The boy finally loosened the knot and ran toward the barn, pulling a somewhat baffled Alamo behind him.

"Mike!" Miss Finch called again, then shaking her head, she climbed down from the buggy and hurried after him. She found him in a stall tending to the horse, pretending he didn't see her.

"Mike," she said, a little out of breath, "I just learned what happened and why you've been so upset. I'm so sorry. I wish I had known…."

Mike heard her voice but didn't comprehend her words. He blurted out, "I'm sorry, Miss Finch! I had to come home. I couldn't tell you...about Jess. I'm so scared...he might die...he screamed so loud...and there was so much blood…."

"Mike," she touched his shoulder, then came closer and put her arm around him, "it's alright. It's all over now."

Her touch seemed to bring Mike back into the present. He glanced up at her, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Are you mad at me?"

"Oh, no, Mike!" She stroked his blonde head and hugged him to her side. "I'm the one who needs to apologize to you! I punished because I didn't understand why you were acting so strangely. Everything is alright between us now. Shall we shake hands on that?"

Mike hesitated for a moment, then took her outstretched hand and shook it. Grownups were hard to understand sometimes, but he was glad to make peace if she was.

"Now," Miss Finch said, "I think you should get Mr. Carter's horse ready for me to take back to town."

The boy did as she asked and led the horse out of the barn. Walking beside him toward the buggy, Miss Finch said, "I've given permission for you to stay at home until your foster father is better - and I hope he gets better very soon."

"I'd go to school every day if it would make Jess well again," Mike said, his young face dark with worry. Then, he muttered, "But I think he's going to die." Before she could respond to this, he looked up at her and said, "Miss Finch, what's it like to die?"

The question took her breath away.

"What's it like?" he persisted. She was a teacher; she had to know. "Does it hurt?"

Miss Finch realized she had to find some answer for the boy, but she had never thought very much about the question he'd asked. Taking a deep breath, she did the best she could. "Well," she said, "The body just stops working. It doesn't hurt though. The pain stops, too."

"Jess' heart hasn't stopped working! I can feel it beating when I hold his hand. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"It certainly is, Mike," she said as confidently as she could. "You'll see. Your foster father will soon be well again. Until then, be glad that you can be with him and try to forget your sad thoughts."

"I don't know if I can. I keep remembering what happened over and over again. I want to forget it but I can't. I want to talk to Jess about it - but he's always so quiet. I'm afraid he'll never wake up again."

"I don't think you should try to guess what's going to happen. In a few days, things will look very different."

"Then I wish it was already a few days from now!" He shuffled along beside her, absently watching the little sprays of sand kicked up by his boots. "I hope Jess will still be alive then."

"I'm sure he will be!" She stood at the front of the buggy, watching silently as the boy tied Mr. Carter's horse to the back of it. When he was finished and walked back to where she was, she said, "Mike, I want you to promise me something." He eyed her warily. "I want you to stop worrying so much. As long as there is a glimmer of hope, you keep on hoping. Can you promise me you'll do that?"

Mike nodded, but he held his hand behind his back, secretly crossing his fingers. He wasn't sure he could keep that promise, but as she started to get into the carriage, he blurted out, "Miss Finch!" When she turned toward him again, he said in all sincerity, "You're real nice - for a teacher."

She smiled and touched his hair. "Thank you, Mike. That's the best compliment you could give me. I glad we're friends again." He was overcome with embarrassment, but like a true gentleman, he helped into the buggy. Once seated, she leaned over and held out her gloved hand. "Goodbye, Mike. And don't forget your promise!

"I won't," he said. "Goodbye, Miss Finch."

He meant to try to do as she asked but when she drove off, he turned back to the house and saw the dark spots on the porch railing and the broken window. Suddenly, heard the gunshot, the glass shattering and most terrible of all Jess' scream. He stood frozen for a moment, then started to breathe heavily as if were panicked by what was happening. The heavy breathing quickly turned into terrified sobs. He fell to the ground, his head hidden in his hands and cried until he could cry no more. There was no way for him to understand why Jess had been shot or why he had just relived it. After a while, he wiped off his wet face as best as he could and got to his feet, urgently needing to see Jess. Then he remembered what Slim told him about washing his hands before he came back into the room. He really didn't understand why both Daisy and Slim insisted on this, but they told him it might hurt Jess if he didn't. He ran into the kitchen, used a lot of soap and water, scrubbed his dirty hands clean and washed off his face. For some reason, getting clean made him think of how dirty the outlaw that shot Jess had been. A red hot rage swept through him. "I hate him!" he shouted. "I hate him."

"Whoa, partner!" Slim said. He'd come to the kitchen for more water. "Who're you talking about?" he asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

"The guy that shot Jess! Hal! I hate him! He shot Jess!"

Slim came to stand beside the boy to pump some water into the pitcher he was holding. "Hate's a hard word, Mike. Sometimes it hurts the person who's doing the hating more than it hurts the person they're hating."

"I hate him anyway!"

"Well, I try not to. I hope he gets caught - and hanged. But that's about justice, not hating."

"But Jess has to hate him, doesn't he? He hurt him so bad."

"Have you ever known Jess to hate anybody? He knows better. Hate eats away at the good in people. It turns them bad, just as bad as the people they hate. It's not worth it, Mike."

The boy stared down at the sink, thinking hard. Slim was right. He never heard Jess say he hated anybody. "Well...maybe," he said, not convinced but calmer.

Slim changed the subject. "How did it go with Miss Finch? Did you talk to her?

"A little bit."

"Only a little bit?"

"Well, I apologized to her," he said, not without pride. "She's not mad at me anymore. She said we were friends again. And I told her that she was real nice for a teacher!"

"You told her that, huh?' Slim said, smiling at the boy.

"Yeah! And it made her real happy! She apologized to me, too, but I don't know why she said that."

"Didn't you ask why?"

"Nah.., I figured I was too little to understand it."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I bet you could if you thought about it for a while."

"Maybe. But right now I'm thinking about something else. I'm thinking about God. Do you think he'll help Jess get well if I ask him to?"

Slim took a moment to answer. He knew prayers got answered in different ways, ways that weren't easy to understand, even for adults, much less a little boy. But maybe Mike's faith could help him. Maybe it could even help Jess.

"Sure," the rancher said. "Sure I do."

"Can I go see him now?"

"I said you could, didn't I? Come on. We don't want to leave Jess alone for very long."

END OF CHAPTER 8


	9. Chapter 9

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 9

Over the next few days, Jess' condition didn't change at all. A dangerous fever rose at night, weakening him. He was repeatedly attacked by terrible fits of coughing that ended in the expulsion of volumes of blood and mucus. The only time he regained consciousness was when his fever was high. Then, in delirium, he stared wildly at something only he could see.

Jess' condition not only consumed his energy; it drained Slim's, too. Since the shooting, he had fought doggedly for his partner's life, staying up with him at night and catching a few hours of sleep during the day. The lack of rest and the emotional strain made him irritable.

Daisy forgave him when he snapped at her, but she was as tired as he was. She tended to Jess' with a nurse's skill but also with a mother's love. She knew the shooting had changed all of their lives and that Jess had little chance of surviving. She also knew she would never give up on him as long as there was even a tiny flicker of life in his body.

Late Monday afternoon, just as Daisy took a load of laundry to the wash kettle, Sheriff Cory and his posse rode up to the ranch, wrapped in a cloud of dust. When they brought their horses to a halt in front of the watering trough, Daisy heard the sheriff ask another man to tend to his horse and to take the posse to town after they took care of their own animals. Daisy dropped her laundry and hurried over to speak to him; she'd seen the grim look on his weary, unshaven face.

"Hello, Sheriff!" she said anxiously.

He tipped his hat to her. "Howdy, Miss Daisy."

"Won't you come in for some coffee? I could have some ready in a few minutes."

"Thank you, ma'am, but not today. I came by to speak to Slim."

"He's in the house. With Jess."

"How is he?" he asked, walking beside her toward the house.

"Not much better," she said softly with a hint of desperation in her voice. "He's still unconscious."

Mort's tired face grew wearier. "What does Doc Higgins say?"

"That we still have to expect the worst, I'm afraid," she said as they walked through the front door. Her voice was as sad as she felt. "If you'll wait here for a minute, I'll get Slim." Going to the bedroom, she sent the rancher out to talk to the sheriff while she stayed with Jess.

"Miss Daisy told me Jess' wasn't any better," Mort said to Slim after they'd shaken hands.

As hard as it was, Slim filled him in on Jess' condition. "But he's hanging on, Mort," he finished, his face strained with fatigue and sorrow. "Doc Higgins won't give us much hope, but doctors can be wrong." He was quiet for a moment, then already knowing the answer, he asked, "Did you see any sign of them?"

"We didn't see them, but they sure did leave a trail. They were in Pine City and harassed the gunsmith that they got the Winchester from. They forced him to exchange it and threatened to come back and kill them if it didn't shoot straight."

"Jess would be dead now if that Winchester's site hadn't been off."

Corey nodded. "That's not the worst of it. Bud Franklin at the Deep River trading post is dead. Hal shot him in cold blood when he asked them to pay for the horses and supplies they got from him. A farmer at the post was near enough to see it but too far away for them to go after him."

"Why Bud? I don't think he even owned a gun."

"They shot Jess for no reason, too. I think like just like killing. There's more. They tried to rob a stagecoach just outside the Deep River area but the horses spooked. It ran off the road and smashed up. The driver was knocked unconscious. I guess they thought he was dead because they left him alone - and the stage was empty, no passengers, no freight. So they rode on to Medicine Bow and held up the bank, killed the cashier and started shooting anybody else in the building. A little girl was hit. She's alive but just barely. The doc there says even if she lives, she might not be able to walk again. She's just a little older than Mike. And for all that, they only got a couple of hundred dollars."

Slim looked sick. "Can't anybody stop them?"

"They haven't yet. We lost them in the mountains outside of Medicine Bow. Either they went west to get to Utah the fastest way they could, or they're still in the mountains. We can't track them there. All we can do is wait until they come out of hiding again."

"And somebody else gets killed," Slim said in disgust. "They could've shot Mike like they shot that girl…"

"They've done a lot of bad things, but that's one of the worst. But Jess cuts the closest to home and makes the least sense. There was no reason at all to shoot him. I'm not going to stop until I get them, Slim. I want you to know that."

"You won't get them if I see them first." Slim's face was tight with anger.

Sheriff Corey had known Slim a long time. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, that's murder, boy, in the sight of the law."

"To hell with the law." He pulled the bullet out of his pocket and shoved it toward Mort. "If I see them I'm going to kill them."

"Killing them won't change what happened, Slim."

"No, but it would make sure it never happened again."

Mort took a tired, deep breath. "Well, for everybody's sake, I hope they don't come back this way."

"That makes two of us." Slim jabbed the bullet back into his pocket. "What're you going to do now?"

"I've already sent out telegrams to all the lawmen in the area, and tomorrow, I'm getting Gary Morgan to come out here so you can describe the two guys you saw. We'll get wanted posters up all over the territory. And tomorrow I'll take a couple of men back into the mountains to look for them. It's a long shot, but I can't just sit in the office waiting for them to show up."

"I'd like to come with you."

"I know it, Slim, but you're needed here. Jess needs you, and so do Daisy and Mike. That gang might come back this way."

"In a way, I wish they would. I'd like a second shot at them."

Mort didn't reply. He went over to the bedroom door and stood looking at his unconscious friend for a few minutes. Then he turned to go, his face filled with weary sadness. "I'll see you later," was all he said as he walked out the door. He mounted his waiting horse and rode toward Laramie to catch up with his posse.

When the sheriff got back to his office four telegrams were lying on his desk, answers to the ones he'd sent out. One was from Leavenworth prison. In sparse telegraph language, it said that four weeks ago a prisoner, a dangerous killer named Alexander Owen, had escaped and was thought to be heading north toward Wyoming Territory and Canada. Mort stuck the telegram in his pocket. He would take it over to Gary Morgan, the editor of the Laramie Chronicle, a newspaper that was published with some semblance of regularity when the news was interesting enough.

Morgan was a small, frail looking man who had a keen appreciation of anything sensational. He didn't make up the news, but he did know how to embellish it with flowery writing and a sharp tongue, and he was always a vocal supporter of law and order. During the last few days, he had suspected something was up. When the posse returned, he immediately headed for the sheriff's office. Wearing his printer's ink stained apron and black over sleeves, he burst in on Mort just as the sheriff was leaving it.

"Howdy, Gary," Mort said. "I was just coming over to see you."

"G'day. Sheriff," Gary replied and slammed the door shut. "I saw you come back with your posse. What's going on? You were on the road for almost a week, but your deputy wouldn't tell us anything. Last Tuesday, folks saw Slim Sherman riding hell bent for leather into town and back out again with the doctor. Mose says the folks at the relay station are acting real funny and nobody's seen Jess Harper at all. You know anything about that?"

"I'll tell you if you hold your horses for a minute! You're right, something bad happened at the Sherman Ranch. Two men broke into the ranch house and gunned down Jess in cold blood. He's in bad shape. There's not much hope that he's going to survive."

"Jess?" Gary was shocked, then surprised himself by tearing up. "How could something like that happen to Jess?" Gary knew what a fast gun Jess was, and he also knew he liked him a lot.

"They ambushed him. Shot him down in cold blood as he was coming in the house. He didn't have a chance. Slim and Daisy were being held at gunpoint and had to watch the whole thing."

"What about Mike?" the publisher asked, feeling sick.

"He hid upstairs and saw everything."

"Why did they do it?" Morgan looked horrified. "Somebody must have a score to settle with Jess!" he said, searching for an explanation. "He's made a lot of enemies in his day."

"No. They didn't even know him. There wasn't a reason. It could have been anybody."

"That's hard to believe!"

"You're right, but I'm sorry to say those are the facts."

"Where're they now? Somebody better catch up with them fast!"

"I'll tell you the whole story on the way to the Sherman Ranch. I want you to ride out there with me so you can get Slim to describe them to you. We need to get wanted posters up all over the Territory."

Thanks to Morgan's writing and drawing skills the next morning news of the three member gang spread all over Laramie and went out on the stages and over the telegraph lines to all the towns in the Territory and beyond. At noon, Sheriff Corey headed out with his posse to search for the outlaw gang in the rugged mountains to the north.

END OF CHAPTER 9


	10. Chapter 10

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 10

The next day after lunch, Slim left Jess in Daisy's care so he could repair the broken living room window. He took down the sheet had been covering it and grimly replaced the shattered pane with an extra one he'd taken out of a storage shed. He'd just put his tools away and was washing his hands in the kitchen when he heard Daisy call him. He hurried into the living room. She was standing at the door of the bedroom.

"Please, hurry, Slim. I think Jess may be regaining consciousness."

She stood aside as Slim rushed in. The rancher saw Jess tossing his head from side to side and arching back against the pillow, moaning as if he were struggling against a heavy weight that threatened to crush him.

Jess was regaining consciousness, but he was awakening to agonizing pain and a terrifying inability to breathe without making the pain worse. When he opened his eyes, he could barely see. A thick grey fog seemed to be surrounding him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and the fog took on a definite shape.

"Slim?" he whispered, lifting his hand to touch him.

"I'm here, Jess," Slim said, grabbing his hand and holding it. "Just take it easy."

Overwhelming pain brought tears to Jess' eyes. His gaunt face distorted into an agonized grimace as tears mingled with sweat and ran in rivulets down the furrows of his cheeks.

"What's...what's wrong with me?" he gasped, "I...can't breathe. Why am I hurtin' me so much?" He tried to raise his head.

"Just lie still, partner. You'll make things worse if you move."

"What happened?"

"Somebody... shot you." Looking at his partner's frightened eyes, Slim knew he couldn't tell him all of the truth right now.

"Shot me? Why? Who?" His voice was barely audible.

Slim's tightened his mouth, unsure how to explain without saying too much. "You were... ambushed," he said at last.

"I don't understand…." Jess groaned and arched back as the pain flared through his body. He lapsed into semi-consciousness for a moment.

Slim gently wiped Jess' face. "I don't understand either. But you don't need to be worrying about that right now. We need to talk about it when you're not so sick."

"He...he must'a got me pretty good, I guess…"

"Don't worry. You're going to be alright," Slim said as confidently as he could, but he couldn't pretend with Jess. He met his friend's eyes. "You got hit pretty hard, though."

"Bad enough to die?"

"No!" Slim, he put all the authority he could muster into that one word. "It's not that bad.

"You….never could...lie…" His face contracted with pain, and he held his breath to keep from screaming. He felt stunned by the attack. When it waned enough, he struggled to speak. Talking to Slim was a lifeline to him. "I can't...tell where they...got me," he gasped.

Slim reached over and put his hand over the bandage that covered the wound. "Here," he said. "But it's not that bad. Let's talk about this later, when you get to feeling better."

"Later? Will...I have...time...later?"

Slim couldn't answer this. "The thing you need to do most is to get some sleep," he said, trying to divert him.

The pain was overwhelming to the wounded man. "Maybe…you're...right...if I..can."

"Doc Higgins left a bottle of morphine for you. I'll get it for you," he said. He felt more worried than surprised when Jess didn't protest.

Daisy hurried to assist the rancher. She trickled a few drops of the brown painkiller into a glass of water and handled the medicine to him. Slipping his arm under his partner's head, Slim lifted Jess and helped him drink the liquid sip by slow sip.

Jess suddenly doubled up against Slim's chest. "Damn, that hurts," he cried through clenched teeth. "Slim!" he shouted hoarsely, clinging to the big rancher in desperation. He started coughing again, choking and gagging until he mercifully passed out, still held tightly in Slim's arms. After a moment, Slim laid him down gently and pulled the covers over him while Daisy, on the other side of the bed, wiped off his face and brushed the tangled black hair back from his forehead. When they had done all they could, they looked at each other in mutual sorrow and fear, unable to put the depth of their grief into words.

It was many hours before Jess moved again. The morphine, mingled with the exhaustion of his brief attempt to talk and his dogged fight against pain, kept him unconscious for the rest of the day and most of the night. He was so quiet that Slim was even able to get a little sleep, but toward dawn, Jess became increasingly restless, and Slim woke up.

Suddenly, Jess sat straight up, drenched with sweat. In the grey half-light of early morning, he stared terrified at a shadow that loomed over him, holding his shoulders. "Go away!" he yelled, desperately trying to push the thing off of him with his unwounded right arm. "Let me go!"

"Jess!" Slim shouted, "Calm down! It's me...Slim!" He grabbed the clenched right fist Jess was using to hit him with and repeated, "You got to calm down!"

Jess couldn't calm down. In his fevered dream, a black-faced demon was leering at him. With a mocking laugh, it threw a heavy black cloak over him, a cloak that paralyzed him with pain and smothered the life out of him. "No!" he whimpered, panicked. "No!"

"Jess! Wake up!" Slim shouted insistently, not knowing what else to do. "Jess!"

Jess stared at him wild eyed. He was frozen with horror, but Slim kept calling his name, tightening his grip on his partner's fist until Jess blinked at him with a look of dazed surprise.

"Slim?" he said, uncertainly.

"Yeah. It's me, Partner," Slim said. "It's OK. You've been dreaming."

"Is he gone?" Jess was befuddled. He could see the sinister figure grinning at him over Slim's shoulder.

"Is who gone?"

"That man...the black cloak."

"There's nobody here but you and me. You must've had a nightmare."

"No! He's...here! I see him…" Jess was panting for breath as he spoke. "He… tried to...smother me. He...laughed…"

"It didn't happen, Jess," Slim said gently, lowering him back on the bed but holding onto his hand. "You had a fever dream. That's all."

"No!" Jess was adamant. "It...it's...death. He's after...me. He's waitin'... I know it."

"Stop talking like that! There was nobody here! Do you hear me? Nobody!"

Jess looked at him in disbelief. He saw the black demon as clearly as he felt the excruciating pain in his chest. Slim said him somebody shot him, but that seemed like a very long time ago. Or had he dreamed that, too? He didn't know what was real anymore. Except for the pain. He felt that with every breath he tried to take. Now he understood. Whether he dreamed the black demon or not...it was here. Death was here, visible or invisible. It was waiting for him, playing some kind of evil cat and mouse game with him, torturing him with unbearable pain, suffocating him. Only Slim was standing between him and the devil with the black cloak. Jess could see the dark shape grinning at him over Slim's shoulder, but it didn't dare touch the strong rancher. Death couldn't get him as long as Slim stayed with him.

He looked up helplessly at his partner. "I'm scared, Slim," he whispered, "real...scared." The evil smile of the demon peering over Slim's shoulder got wider. A knife-like pain stabbed deep into Jess' shoulder. He moaned out loud and clenched Slim's hand as agony ran like wildfire through his upper body.

Slim held onto him. "It's going to be OK, Jess. Everything is going to be OK," he repeated helplessly.

As the wave of pain faded, Slim's familiar voice pulled Jess' back from oblivion. He panted, trying to catch his breath. When he was able to open his eyes to look at his partner, the demon had disappeared, but Jess was still afraid. It was probably just hiding behind his friend's broad back, waiting to pouch on him the minute he felt safe.

With one hand, Slim ran a damp cloth over Jess' fever hot face, with the other he held Jess' hand.

"Slim," Jess' voice was weaker, "don't go anywhere. Don't...don't…leave me alone."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here as long as you need me." His hand tightened on Jess'. "Why don't you get to get some sleep now? I'll make sure nobody gets near you."

Jess closed his eyes. He could feel Slim's hand holding his. Around the edges of fear and pain, a sense of safety and warmth began to hover around him. It seemed to be coming from Slim, from the touch of his hand, from his nearness. Jess' hand spasmed a few times, and his lips twitched as the terrible pain in his chest stabbed at him until, eased by the comfort of Slim's presence, he gradually sank deeper and deeper into a numbing darkness. At last, his head slowly tilted to the side and with a sigh, he sank back into unconsciousness.

For the next several day and nights, Jess stayed in a coma-like state from which he aroused for only a few minutes. It was not until the end of the week when, against all expectations, he seemed to get a little better. The fever fell and presented no immediate danger. Even the pain became a little more bearable for short periods of time.

When he was conscious, he felt like he was suspended in empty space. There was no sense of time. He knew when they tried to feed him or get him to drink but everything had the taste of blood. It felt good when they washed his face with a cool cloth or held his hand. Most of the time, he didn't know exactly who it was - but he always had an abiding sense of Slim's presence.

Two weeks had passed since the bullet brought him down. The shadow of death hadn't completely disappeared from his sunken features, but when he opened his eyes now, they were clear and no longer held a feverish, glazed look. He still didn't know who shot him. Whenever he woke up, he asked Slim to tell him, but he was too weak to demand an answer and Slim always dodged the question, postponing an explanation to another time.

END OF CHAPTER 10


	11. Chapter 11

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 11

Fifteen days after he'd been wounded, Jess startled awake after a dream of flying through the air. Confused, he tried to sit up only to fall back onto the bed with a groan of pain. He clenched his right hand and held it to his chest. Something seemed to be ripping him apart from inside. He still hurt badly, but for the first time since he was shot, he was fully conscious of his situation and his surroundings. The dense fog that had enveloped him for the last two weeks was gone. He looked around, unsure of where he was. In the morning light, he saw the outline of his tall friend standing at the window looking outside. Slim had been awake all night, just as he had the all the other nights, keeping watch over Jess. He'd brought a cot into the room and dared to catch a few hours of sleep when he could. He heard Jess moaning and turned around with a jerk, feeling guilty that he'd been lost in his own thoughts instead of paying attention to the sick man. He quickly strode to Jess' bedside.

"Take it easy, partner!" he said, sitting down in the chair and putting his hand on Jess' unhurt shoulder to keep him still. "If you move you'll tear that wound open again." When he looked at Jess' eyes, he could tell he was finally aware of his surroundings, but he was struggling hard against the pain and helplessness of his wounded body. "You're going to be OK. Just try to lie still. I know you're hurting, but you're going to be alright."

"You really...believe that?" Jess groaned in disbelief. Lying still hurt as much as moving around.

"Sure I do. Don't you?"

"I don't know. I feel like I might'a died already…." The look he gave Slim was almost desperate. "Why won't you tell me what happened? Is it so bad you're afraid to tell me?"

Slim frowned as he considered what to do. Since Jess was more awake, knowing why he was hurting so bad might help him. He took a deep breath. "The bullet hit you in the left side of your chest just above your heart. It hit a rib. That kept it from going all the way through, but it shattered the rib. That's why it's hurting you so much to breathe."

"How about my arm? I can't move it."

"Doc Higgins has it wrapped up so you can't move it and break the wound open again."

Jess struggled to breathe, trying to understand what Slim said. "It sounds pretty...bad."

The rancher looked away, then looked back at Jess. As confidently as he could, he said, "Not that bad! You're going to be fine."

"Come on, Slim..." Jess insisted. "How bad...is it?"

"Even Doc Higgins doesn't know that."

"Maybe he ain't tellin' you everything he knows for a reason. Maybe there's no hope anyway…"

"Don't say that!" Slim snapped. "Don't even think it!"

"I've been coughin' up blood, right? And I can't breathe...without hurtin' like hell." He stopped to gather his strength. "Tell me what's goin' on! Are my lungs so... torn up that I can't make it….can't ever be well again…?"

Slim said, made a decision. "Alright," he said. "You've been coughing up blood. When you were first hit we didn't think you were going to make it. Don't ask me why you did. Dan said you wouldn't last the night - but you did. You've had a bad fever, and you've been in a hell of a lot of pain, but you've made it for two weeks, and now we're sitting here talking to each other. Dan still shakes his head every time he sees you."

"Why does Dan shake his head?" Jess asked quietly. Slim hadn't told him anything he didn't already suspect. "Because I'm still alive? Or because he thinks...I'm not going to be around much longer?"

"I don't know. I don't think he knows either. But I don't care what he thinks - and you shouldn't either. You've made it this far. And you're going to get well - no matter how many times Doc shakes his head or why he does it!"

"I wish I was as sure as you are," Jess said, his voice so low Slim could barely hear him. Then he looked up at Slim. "How did it happen?" His black eyebrows crinkled in pained confusion. "I...I..can't remember. I can't remember anything."

"Maybe you ought to be glad about that."

"Was it that bad?"

"Yeah, it was bad. But I don't think we ought to be talking about it now. You need to get some rest."

"I want to know, Slim. I got a right to know why I'm lying here in this bed."

Slim's mouth tightened, and he frowned. His guilt made this a very hard story for him to tell. But Jess was right. He needed to know what happened. And maybe it would help both of them to get it out in the open.

Jess saw his hesitation. "Just tell me the truth and don't lie to me. You know I know it when you do. You'd only be lyin' to yourself."

Slim was startled. Did Jess really remember what happened and was pretending he didn't? His partner often had a kind of second sight about things, but Slim wasn't ready to talk to him about how guilty he felt for not stopping the shooting. He wasn't even ready to admit it to himself.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he finally said.

Jess thought hard but couldn't remember anything. "I got no idea. Maybe you could...get me started.

"Alright. You went out to the north pasture to check on the fences. That was two weeks ago."

"Yeah!" Jess said. "It was on Monday. I left right after breakfast..."

"Good. What else?"

"It took me most of the morning to find the break. The fence was down for about thirty feet. I made a temporary fix and went to track down the cows that got out." He paused to catch his breath. "I found 'em the next morning in Windshaw Canyon. I got 'em herded up easy enough, then headed back home. But I don't remember gettin' here." Jess was frowning, thinking hard, and was starting to move around restlessly. "Did it...did it happen on the road?"

"No, not there - and don't move around! You got to keep that shoulder still!" Slim was beginning to feel uncomfortable himself. "It happened here...at the ranch, right out on...the porch."

Jess' frown deepened. "Here? On the porch?" That was the last thing he'd expected to hear. "I thought somebody ambushed me… What happened?" He was trying to sit up, agitated by the pain and the strain of the story but he fell back on the bed, groaning and biting his lip so hard it made it bleed. "Damn! This pain is drivin' me crazy!"

"I was afraid of this!" Slim said. "We need to talk about this when you're feeling better."

"No! I want to know! Please, Slim!"

The rancher sighed. Maybe Jess would be satisfied with the highlights and let the rest go. Slim described the invasion, how the two men held him and Daisy at gunpoint and how one of them shot Jess as he was coming into the house. Slim said he'd been knocked out and Daisy had fainted, and when they came to, the men were gone, and they'd found him on the living room floor, badly wounded.

"We got you into this bedroom, and I rode for Doc Higgins. You know the rest of it. You've made it through two weeks of hell, but now you're getting better. And you're going to get well," Slim ended, hoping this abbreviated version of what happened would satisfy his partner.

Jess was thoughtful. "What were those two guys after? Money?"

"No, nothing like that." Slim had a sinking feeling. Jess wasn't going to let it go.

"Why were they here, then?"

"They were waiting for somebody."

"Who?"

"A friend of theirs. They'd arranged to meet him here at noon."

"Here? Why here?"

"I don't know. Probably because relay stations are easy places to find - and far enough away from the law."

Jess was looking intently at him, sensing he was leaving a lot out. "Are you sure they weren't after me?"

"They didn't even know you."

"Why did they shoot me?" Jess stared hard at Slim. This story wasn't making sense.

Slim's face tensed with pain. This was the hardest part to talk about.

"There wasn't any reason, Jess," he said slowly. "No reason at all. You just came home at the wrong time. The guy named Hal said he was ...bored...and wanted to do some target practice." Tears were at the edge of Slim's eyes as he met Jess' incredulous look. "And you were there. And the worst thing is ...I didn't stop him." Now that he'd made this terrible confession, he felt compelled to get it all out. "The other man, the one called Ron, had a gun on me and on Daisy. He said if I warned you, he was going to shoot Daisy….that he was going to give me the 'pleasure' of watching my friend die. I tried to warn you but I ...waited ...until it was too late." Slim was staring doggedly at his hands, kneading them together. "When I yelled to warn you, Ron knocked me out. And Daisy fainted." He took a jerky breath. "Daisy came to first, then I woke up. The men were gone, and you…you… Oh, God, Jess!" he cried out, anguished. "I'm so sorry! I should have stopped it!" It was almost a sob. "At least I should have tried…" He dropped his head and ran his hand through his hair, unable to look at his friend.

Jess reached out grabbed his partner's arm, holding it tight. "Don't blame yourself, Slim," he said in a quiet voice. "It wasn't your fault."

"I should have stopped it!" Slim insisted, looking up at him. "I should have done something!"

"That ain't so! You would've put Daisy in danger. And I might not have understood you in time to do anything. It could've made it worse. They might'a killed all of us."

"I don't know... I just wish I could turn the clock back. I should've been the one to take that bullet. I waited too long. It was my fault. Nothing's going to change that."

"You got to quit feelin' like that! You couldn't of done anything else. They would've shot Daisy and you, too. And me. If I'd of been in your place, I'd of done the same thing. And if something had happened to you or Miss Daisy because of me, how do you think I would've felt? That would've been harder for me to live with than gettin' shot."

"I don't know," Slim said again. "The whole thing was just so pointless. He shot you out of boredom! For the fun of it! And I let it happen."

"You didn't let it happen, Slim! You got to know that." Jess was pleading with him. He looked into his partner's eyes, willing him to understand what he was trying to say. In that gaze, a kind of wordless communication flowed between them, the kind of communication only people who know each other inside and out and love each other can have. Slim's shoulders fell as he let out the breath he'd been holding. His guilt was eased, for the moment.

The moment was broken when Jess' face suddenly contorted as a dagger-like pain stabbed through his chest and took his breath away. Clenching his teeth to keep from screaming, he dug his right fist into his bandaged shoulder and jammed his head into the pillow beneath him. Slim leaned over him helplessly, looking as pained as Jess did. When the spasm passed, Jess groaned and slowly opened his eyes. "Don't worry…," he gasped in a hoarse voice that his partner barely recognized. "It's gone… It...wasn't that bad."

Slim grabbed a cool, wet cloth and gently ran it over Jess face and neck where sweat from his ordeal shone on his pale skin. "I think you should try to go back to sleep again. All this talking has been too much for you. I shouldn't have told you everything," Slim said regretfully. His guilt was back.

"It wouldn't of mattered when you told me… I just wonder... why it happened. Maybe he got me confused with somebody else…"

"I don't think so. Look, we need to stop talking…"

"Maybe my hand was too near my gun, and he thought I was goin' to draw on him. I rest my hand on the handle a lot."

"No, Jess! Your right hand was nowhere near your gun. You were reaching for the porch post like you always do. It didn't have anything to do with you at all. He just wanted to kill somebody - anybody. The only reason you're alive is because the gun's site was off and the bullet went high and to the right."

"How do you know so much about the gun?" Jess asked, wanting to keep talking.

Slim answered reluctantly. "When Mort went to look for them, he found the gunsmith that they got it from in Pine City. After they shot you and found out the site was off, the gang went back to harass him about it. Hal, the guy who shot you…" Slim had trouble even saying it, "...just used you for target practice to test his new Winchester."

"That's pretty hard to believe," Jess said after a long pause.

"Damn right it's hard to believe!" Slim exploded. This conversation was taking its toll on him. "Why you? He would have shot his own grandmother! Why did it have to be you?"

"Hey, partner...," Jess said. He was the one calming Slim down now. "Stop beatin' up on yourself. You need to get it through your thick skull you ain't guilty of anything. I've always expected somethin' like this to happen one day, ever since I first picked up a gun. I made a lot of enemies."

"Sure you have, but that's not why this happened!"

"It don't matter. The guy who did it might not of been after me but I know a dozen other men who were. I just always wanted it to be quick. The only thing I've been afraid is havin' to die slow because of a piece of lead. Maybe it would've been better if that guy's Winchester had aimed true."

"Knock it off, Jess!" Slim snapped at him. The hopeless sound in his partner's voice scared him.

Jess frowned, choking back a groan and his own sense of despair. After a while, he rasped. "OK. You're right. I shouldn't be complainin'. I ought to be happy I'm still alive."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"I know, but I can't pretend that I might not…" He couldn't finish the sentence because pain stole his breath away. He tried to fight it, clenching his jaw so he wouldn't scream. "Bloody hell!" he gritted out, "Why am I hurtin' like this?"

"You want me to give you some laudanum?"

"No!"

"I knew I shouldn't have started talking about this," Slim said, guilt consuming him in the face of Jess' agony.

"Not...your...fault. But you got ...to promise me... something."

"Sure! Anything!"

"It's Mike…"

Another bolt of anxiety hit Slim. He knew Jess was in no condition to learn that Mike had witnessed everything. Jess assumed he'd been in school that day.

"You got to promise...you'll take care of him...use my share of the ranch so he can get a good education. I want him to do more with his life...than I have. I want him to know...this will always...be his...home."

"Sure, I will. You know that."

"But you got to ...understand him…. Don't be too hard on him…. He's still just a young'un. Just don't let him...don't let him...learn to use a gun like me. I don't want him... to end up...like this. Please, Slim… You got to promise me!"

"Jess…"

"Please, Slim! If it ain't this time, it'll be another time. We should've talked about this a lot sooner."

"Maybe we didn't... because we didn't have to. We both took it for granted!" Slim said, his voice tight with fear and grief. Jess sounded like he was about to die in the next few minutes.

"You promise me, then?"

There were tears in Slim's eyes. "I promise, Jess. I'll make sure Mike is OK."

"Thank you!" Jess' breathing eased. Hearing it said out loud brought him relief. He knew what it was like to be a homeless boy.

Slim took a shaky breath. "I don't plan to have to keep that promise anytime soon. You've got to get well as soon as you can. Mike needs you."

"Nothin' I rather do," Jess said weakly. "I just...can't make that happen right now..."

Another spasm of pain shot through the wounded cowboy. He dug into the bandage on his chest like he was trying to tear it off. Slim grabbed his partner's hand and held it as Jess arched and screamed in agony. "I can't take this anymore," he panted after the spasm eased enough for him to be able to speak. "You still got some of that pain killer…?"

Slim had to free his hand from his partner's tight grip so he could dribble a few drops of laudanum into a glass. The rancher lifted Jess up with one arm and helped him drink. By the time the glass was finally empty, Jess was struggling hard to breathe. The wheezing turned into horrible coughing and gagging. Slim got behind him and held him upright to keep him from suffocating on the blood and mucus coming out of his lungs.

When coughing subsided, Jess lay exhausted on Slim's chest. Slim shifted aside a little so he could adjust the pillow then gently let him slide down to the bed. He once more wiped the sweat and mucus from his friend's face and pulled the covers up to his chin.

Jess was still gasping, but his eyes were clear. He even tried to give Slim a weak smile. "Thanks, partner."

"No more talking!" Slim ordered. "Let that laudanum do its job."

"I don't want to get used to that stuff," Jess whispered.

"Does that mean you're not going to take it anymore?"

Jess shook his head. Now it seemed silly that he'd refused it for so long; the pain was already easing. "Sorry to be so much trouble."

"You got nothing to be sorry about with me. I wish I could do more."

"You're doin' more than you know just by being here." Jess was floating off, but there were things he still wanted to say, and the laudanum was freeing him up to say them. "Death's in this room, too," he murmured. "I can't blame you for lyin' to me about it. I just don't want you...to lie to yourself. It's a good thing death's got more respect for you than he has for me. He would have taken me away if it hadn't of been for you…."

"Stop talking like that, Jess. You're the one doing the fighting."

Jess didn't bother to respond. There was no point in arguing about it. He knew the truth. Instead, he asked for a drink of water, suddenly aware of an overpowering thirst. Slim got it for him and helped him slowly get it down.

"Thanks, Slim," Jess said when the glass was finally empty. "Thanks," he repeated groggily, "for everything...not just for the last two weeks...for everything you've done for me since I met you."

"That goes both ways," Slim said, wishing Jess would quit talking like he was about to die.

"You gave me a family again," Jess said, fighting sleep. He didn't know if he'd wake up from the dose of laudanum he'd taken and there were things he had to make sure Slim knew. "A place I belonged. Home..." His tired face softened, showing the gentle core that lay beneath the sometimes tough exterior. "That's what I want for Mike…"

Slim fought back the lump in his throat. "He'll always have that, Jess."

"You got to help him stay on the right track. He might not have as much luck as I did…"

It was getting harder for him to speak.

Slim didn't voice the objections he felt to the way Jess was talking. Instead, he said, "Just take it easy, partner, and go to sleep. Everything is going to be alright. I'll pull the curtains closed."

"Nah, don't do that. I like...to see the sunlight coming in. Just hang around, OK? I feel better...if you're here."

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere," the rancher promised.

Slim sat beside Jess until his partner's eyes closed. After a few reflexive gasps, the wounded man's breathing slowed, his features gradually relaxed and he slept.

When he was sure Jess was deeply asleep, Slim stood up, stretching backward to unwind his cramped muscles. He walked to the door and stood in the opening, leaning against the frame as he thoughtfully rubbed his unshaven chin.

Daisy came into the living room to set the table for breakfast. When she saw Slim, she hurried over to him.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Sleeping.'

"Slim! I heard him cry out! I want to know the truth. How is he really doing?"

"He woke up and was more clear headed than he's been before. We had a long talk, too long maybe. He started having terrible pain. Then one those coughing attacks hit him. He even asked for laudanum, and I gave it to him. That's why he's sleeping now." Slim's face was tight again. "I wish I could do more for him."

"You do more than you think."

"That's what he wants me to believe. But he's he knows he's in bad shape."

"What do you mean?"

"He made me promise to look after Mike if he...doesn't make it."

"Oh, Slim!" Daisy said, wringing her hands.

"He sounded so hopeless, Daisy. Like he thought he was going to go to sleep and never wake up. And he wanted to know everything that happened. Maybe that was too much for him. The only thing he didn't ask about was Mike. He thinks Mike was at school."

"That's probably for the best. Did he ask how serious the wound is?"

"He knows what Doc Higgins said. I told him the truth. He has the right to know, and he wouldn't have believed anything but the truth anyway."

"If he knows everything, it's no wonder he's worried about Mike's future. I'm glad he could talk to you about him. That must have been a comfort to him."

"Yeah…," Slim's face crumpled with grief, "...but he said he didn't want to be helpless and die slow. He sounded like...like he was more willing to die than to live. He scared me."

"You mustn't give up hope! Jess has been through so much. Give him time. And when he loses hope, we must hope for him all the more!"

"I want to do that…." Jess' scream was still sounding in Slim's ears.

Daisy put her hand on his arm. "You need time, too. We all do. Jess knows Mike needs him and because that boy needs him, Jess will fight for his life even when a part of him wants to give up. You just wait," she said, sounding more confident than she felt, "you'll see that I'm right."

"I hope so." His voice was grim. Then he looked around. "Speaking of Mike...where is he?"

"He got up early for once. He's out feeding the chickens and collecting the eggs."

"I don't want him in there with Jess when he comes inside. Jess might wake up at any time. Seeing Mike right might be too much for him.'

"Don't worry," Daisy said. "I deal with him. I don't think he would want to see Jess if he thought it could harm him."

END OF CHAPTER 11


	12. Chapter 12

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 12

For the next few days, Jess slept around the clock, waking only for brief periods of time. Slim or Daisy were always with him and took advantage of his short periods of consciousness to feed him what they could and get him to drink something. With his permission, they gave him regular doses of laudanum to dull his pain. By the end of the week, he was staying awake for longer stretches and could do without the pain killer during the day, taking cat naps when he needed them.

One evening after supper, Daisy and Mike were in the kitchen washing dishes. When Jess fell asleep after Slim fed him a little bit of chicken broth with some well-mashed dumplings in it, the rancher decided he could slip into the office for a minute to check on the mail that had come in on the last stage. On top of the small pile of bills and notices lay Gary Morgan's newspaper, the LARAMIE CHRONICLE. "GUNMEN STILL AT LARGE" was splashed across the front page. Beneath the headline, Morgan retold the violence at the Sherman Ranch in brutally descriptive words.

Slim couldn't read it. He didn't need or want to be reminded of that day. Impelled by an urgent need to make sure Jess was OK, he hurried back to the bedroom. When he got there, Jess seemed to be asleep. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to go back to the office, but as he did he heard his partner call, "Slim? Is that you?" He walked back to the bed and sat down.

"I thought you were asleep," he said.

"I was 'til a minute ago."

"How're you feeling?"

"Like I could dig up trees," Jess said sarcastically, then caught his breath in pain. "The truth is," he said when he could speak again, "I feel like hell."

"Anything I can do?'

"It's better if I try to ignore it. Just prop me up on some pillows, will ya? There's something I want to ask you about."

"Let me take three guesses and the first two don't count," Slim said, using some sarcasm of his own and gently placing a few pillows behind his partner's back.

"Well, what else have I got to think about!" Jess complained, wanting to talk. "I'm stuck in this bed with nothing to do. And don't tell me to count sheep!"

"That's not a bad idea."

"Instead of givin' me useless advice, how about tellin' me more about those guys who dropped by to say hello the other day. And don't dodge it again! What did they look like?"

Slim sighed, resigned. His partner had asked him repeatedly about this. He was still convinced the men had come looking for him. "They didn't know you, Jess!" Slim said for the umpteenth time.

"How do you know? I got some dark spots you still might not know about. Maybe even I've forgotten 'em."

"I don't think so."

"Damn it - don't rule it out. What did they...look like?" Jess was gasping for breath, but he overrode the pain by concentrating on the conversation with Slim.

Slim studied him, considering how to respond. Jess was doing better. Maybe he could handle more information. It might even help him.

'I can tell you that..."

"Then why ain't you told me before now?" Jess grumbled from his pillows.

"...there are wanted posters out on them…." Slim plowed on.

"They're already known around here?" Jess interrupted again.

"I'll tell you if you simmer down! They weren't known around here before they shot you but since then they've made quite a name for themselves."

"That don't sound good."

"It isn't. The man they met here was named Alexander Owen. He'd escaped from Leavenworth three weeks before."

"Alexander Owen…." Jess looked thoughtful. "That name sounds familiar."

"You might have heard it somewhere. Gary Morgan got the full story on him and published it in the newspaper. He was serving a lifetime prison sentence for raiding some farms and killing some people - and for robbing a Union Pacific train in broad daylight."

"That'll set the law on your trail. But I don't know him. How about the other two? Why did you say they came here to the ranch?"

"The ranch - the Relay Station - is an easy landmark. At first, I thought they were waiting for you. I even said your name out loud before you got home to see if they reacted to it. They didn't know you, Jess. They like killing for the fun of it. From here they went to Pine City and threatened the gunsmith they got the Winchester from. Then they went to Deep River Trading Post and killed old Bud Franklin…"

"They killed Bud?" Jess' forehead crinkled. He knew Bud and liked him. "Why him?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Jess. They kill because they like killing. And there's more…"

Slim told him about the trail of senseless violence the three men left in their wake. Hearing about the little girl getting hurt was the hardest part for Jess. His face tightened into the cold mask of the gunfighter. "Somebody's got to get those bastards," he said with deadly quietness.

"Mort and a posse are out there looking for them now, but they're hiding out in the mountains where a pack of bloodhounds couldn't track them. And the wanted posters haven't turned up anything yet."

"Can I see the posters?"

"If you feel up to it."

Jess nodded, his eyes closed. Slim went to his office where he kept the three sheets in a drawer in the desk. Coming back, he hesitated at the bedroom door with the papers hanging from his hand, wondering if this was the right thing to do. He heard Jess coughing, and when he stepped into the room, he saw him digging his right hand into his chest. With a few quick strides, he was at his partner's side.

"Everything OK?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Jess lied, trying not to let his pain show but his heavy breathing betrayed him. "Let me see." When he reached for them, his hand trembled from weakness but he studied the picture of Alexander Owen that was on top. "I know I've seen this guy before, but I don't know where." He squinted his eyes closed a bit, trying to see better. "You sure he hasn't ever been around here?"

"I don't think so. Gary said he was up in the Dakotas before he got caught. There was a wanted poster circulating around offering a reward after he robbed the Union Pacific."

"I remember seein' it now. He's got the kind of face you don't forget." He let the paper slide onto the bedcovers and held the second poster in his right hand so he could look at both drawings at the same time. His face darkened the way the sky does before a thunderstorm. "I've never seen either one of them," he said casually, but there was a dangerous undertone in his voice. "Which one shot me?"

"That one." He tapped Hal's picture. "You owe all this to him. And to me."

"That ain't so, Slim!" Jess frowned fiercely at him. "How come you said that? It ain't true!"

"I think it is. It'll haunt me for the rest of my life," Slim said, tightening his mouth.

"That's crazy talk!"

"If you were in my place you say the same thing." When Slim looked up and saw the strain on Jess' face, he realized he'd forgotten his patient. The posters triggered a lot of bad feelings for both of them. "I'm sorry, Jess," he said, running his fingers through his hair as if he were shaking off the bad thoughts. "Forget it."

"Sometimes I think that bullet did more damage to your brain than it did to my lungs!" There was a sharp edge to his voice, but he wanted to change the subject, too. Talking about it didn't make it better anyway. "That's a pretty big reward those posters are promisin'. Was that your idea?"

"No. People in town did that."

"How come?"

"Maybe they want those guys caught. And maybe they wanted to do something for you because they like you - or because they felt guilty."

"Guilty about what?"

"About how much you've done for them. The mayor said Laramie owes you a lot. He knows you've risked your life more than once for the town. Been wounded more than once, too."

"They shouldn't of done it on my account. Why didn't you stop 'em?"

"Why should I? The mayor got it right. The Overland Company kicked in some money, too. Kellington makes a habit of getting you to ride shotgun, whether he needs one or not. He knows you've more of a sense of responsibility for the stage than he does. You do the dirty work, and he gets the profit."

"A lot of the drivers are friends of mine. I don't like the idea of them gettin' hurt because Kellington's too stingy to pay for a regular guard."

"I know that, but you've done a lot for him. Anyway, it doesn't matter. That much reward money might light a fire under somebody to go after them. They're not going to be easy to bring down. They shoot first and don't care who they kill. They're either totally cold-blooded or crazy."

"Probably both. I'm glad they didn't think about killin' off witnesses when they were here." He stopped for a minute, chilled by the thought. His voice lowered. "I'm glad Mike was in school."

"Yeah," Slim said, looking down.

The rancher hadn't expected Jess to be paying that much attention to him or he might have been more cautious in his reply. Jess caught the evasiveness in his voice. He'd heard it more than once since he'd been wounded, and he already suspected more had gone on that day than Slim was telling him. Now he knew it for sure. Slim was trying to protect him from something, something really bad, something he was afraid would upset him too much.

"He was in school, right?' Jess asked his partner.

"Where else would he be?"

Fear hit Jess in the gut like a physical blow. "Was he at home?"

"Why would he be?"

"Maybe he was home because the teacher was sick - or somethin' like that." The knot in Jess' stomach tightened.

"You got no reason to think that."

Without warning, the knot uncoiled. Jess's hand shot out and grabbed Slim's arm. "He was here, wasn't he?" His fingers sank into the muscles near Slim's wrist. "You can't even look at me," he yelled. "Damn it! Tell me the truth!"

Then the pain from his wound hit him, rolling over his chest like a fireball. He dropped Slim's arm and dug his fist into his shoulder, clenching his teeth and groaning in agony. Slim jumped up to help him, but Jess either overrode the pain or was fueled by it. He snapped his head around to face Slim as furious as only Jess Harper could be, his dark brows drawn together, his eyes narrowed in fury and blazing with anger that struck Slim like a bullet. "Where was he?" Jess said, his voice hoarse with pain and rage.

"Ease off, Jess!" Slim demanded. "Nothing happened to him!"

"Where was he?" Jess repeated, calming down some like he usually did - eventually - when Slim got tough.

Slim took a deep breath. Jess was already so upset that telling him the truth could hardly make it worse.

"Alright, he wasn't at school. He was at home because there was a circus in town and Miss Finch called school off that day so the kids could go to it. He was upstairs when the gang broke in. But he wasn't hurt!"

Jess kept looking at Slim through eyes squeezed nearly shut, his face creased with pain. He had an idea of what Slim was about to tell him.

"He wasn't hurt, Jess," Slim said gently. "He was hiding behind the railings, and the men didn't see him - but he saw everything that happened."

Jess cut his head to the side. Hearing Slim say it out loud was almost too much for him to bear.

Slim put his hand on Jess' arm and held it there. "I didn't want to tell you. I was afraid of what it would do to you."

Jess took a shaky breath. He shot a lightning fast glance at Slim. "Couldn't you have stopped it?"

"No, but I should have. Just like I should've stopped them from shooting you."

"I didn't mean that, Slim! I ain't thinkin' straight!" Jess wiped his hand over his face and through his hair, then looked over at his partner, begging him to understand. "I don't blame you! If you'd tried somethin' it would've made things worse. They could've found Mike. Who knows what could've happened then?"

Slim frowned. "Nice try, Jess, but I got no excuse, and you know it."

Jess was really calming down now. He could see that Slim's broad shoulders were slumped beneath the burden of guilt he was carrying. That hurt Jess as much as everything else had. "Look, partner," he said, his voice low and quiet, filled with enough strength to get Slim's attention, "I don't want you to get yourself all caught up feeling guilty about somethin' that wasn't your fault. If you did, it would eventually wreck things between us. I don't want that to happen - and I don't think you do, either."

Slim scowled, looking down at the floor. It took him a minute to figure out what Jess had just said to him. Then he looked back up at his partner. Their eyes met and held. After a moment, a fragment of a smile flickered in Slim's face and Jess' face softened, too. A current of warmth passed between them. Without another word being said, they understood each other.

Feeling relieved, Jess took as deep a breath as he could and asked, "How's Mike now?"

"I think he's doing OK. Miss Finch is letting him stay at home for a while. He couldn't concentrate in school anyway. We're keeping him busy with chores and Daisy does some lessons with him when she has time." Slim was glad to be able to be more open with Jess about the boy, but he still chose his words carefully. "He cried a lot at first, but now that he knows you're better, he's better, too. When you're in good enough shape, we'll let him come in here to stay with you."

Jess stared down at his bandaged left arm, then he looked back at Slim with a new resolve in his eyes - but there was also an underlying sadness there, too. "I got to get well, Slim," he said. "No matter what it takes. Mike needs me. Do you think I can? What does Doc Higgins think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think or what Doc Higgins thinks. You're going to get well."

"You're dodging questions again. I need to know the truth. I got a right to it - and I need to know what to tell Mike. I don't want to make promises to him I can't keep."

Slim sucked his cheeks in and rubbed his mouth with his hand, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Jess, Dan doesn't know himself how you're going to be. You got bad internal injuries. You know that. It's a miracle you're still alive." When Jess kept looking at him, waiting for the real answer, Slim said abruptly, "Doc says you have a fifty-fifty chance of making it - but the first time he saw you, he said you didn't have any. Look, _I_ think you're going to make it - you're a hell of a fighter, but if you're worried about Mike, maybe the best thing to do is... don't promise him anything."

Jess's nodded a little, but out of the blue, he started to cough, the kind of choking, gagging cough that would have suffocated him if Slim hadn't quickly lifted him up and held him upright until he expelled the bloody mucus that had accumulated in his lungs. Moaning and struggling for breath, Jess lay exhausted against his partner's chest.

Slim wiped him up with one of the towels from the bedside table. "OK, now?" he asked.

Jess dropped his hand away from his wounded shoulder. "I think so," he gasped.

Slim held him until his breathing eased, then laid him gently down on the pillows. He washed his face again and sat with him in silence, watching him. He knew Jess was very tired, but he could also tell his wounded partner had something on his mind. He'd closed his eyes and he was frowning, clearly thinking about something that bothered him more than physical pain.

Finally, Jess opened his eyes a little and turned to look at him. His face was grave. "Slim, I want to...see Mike." His voice was weak, but it had a determined undertone. "I...I got to talk to him."

"Now?"

"There might not be a later."

"You sure? You look pretty wrung out to me. Why don't you get some rest first?"

"Quit talkin' and get Mike in here," Jess said, frowning again.

Slim sighed. "I hope I don't regret this," he said as he got up.

"Get those posters out of here. I don't want him seein' them."

Slim picked up the scattered posters and looked down at Jess before he turned to leave. "I'll be around if you need me."

"Thanks, partner." Jess closed his eyes, gathering his strength. "Thanks."

Slim reluctantly left the room, not sure about letting Jess talk to Mike. He dropped the papers off in the office and went on to the kitchen. Daisy was finishing up the dishes. She'd sent Mike outside to chop some kindling for the next day. She smiled at Slim when he came in the room.

"Almost finished!" she said, brightly.

Slim hesitated for a moment, not sure how to tell her what Jess wanted. Then he just said it. "Jess wants to talk to Mike.

Daisy put her hand to her mouth. She understood at once what Slim was telling her. "Does he know?"

"I told him everything."

"Oh, Slim. How did he take it?"

"How do you think?" Slim snapped. Then he dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, Daisy. I don't mean to take things out on you."

"I understand." She put her hand on his arm. "Is he up to it?"

"He won't take no for an answer." Slim took a tired breath, his big chest rising and falling. "Maybe it'll do them both good."

Mike came noisily through the back door, a load of kindling in this arms. When he dropped it in the box by the stove, Daisy looked at him thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right," she said.

"Hi, Mike," Slim said. "Come on over here. Jess wants to see you."

"Really?" Mike's face lit up. He hadn't been allowed to see Jess for over a week. "Right now?"

"Right now. But you got to leave the room if I tell you to. OK?"

"Sure!"

"Good." Slim's hand slipped gently over the boy's blonde head. "And, look, Tiger, you got to be careful. You could hurt him, especially on that left side."

"I know," Mike said, sounding older than his years.

Putting a hand on the child's back, Slim steered him toward the room. "Now remember. He's real sick," he said before he let Mike go in.

Mike nodded and gingerly entered the bedroom, walking very carefully to Jess' bedside. Jess had his eyes closed and looked grey and thin. The boy was afraid to speak to him.

Then Jess' eyes opened. He looked up at Mike with a gentle smile and reached for the boy's hand. "I'm not asleep," he said, his voice deep and warm, the way Mike remembered it. "It's OK."

All of sudden, the pent up sorrow in Mike welled up and flooded to the surface. He fell on the bed, buried his head in Jess' unwounded shoulder and started crying uncontrollably. Jess' arm tightened around him, but the pain was too much. He couldn't suppress a groan. "Easy, Tiger, not so rough."

It took a few minutes for Mike to make sense of what Jess' was saying. When he did, he pulled back in horror. "I'm hurting you! I didn't mean to! I promised Slim..."

"Take it easy, Tiger." Overriding the pain, he wiped at the tears on Mike's face and let his hand fall on the boy's neck, pulling close again. "I'm hurtin' anyway. It ain't your fault."

Mike dropped his head on Jess' upper arm, clutched at the covers covering him and sobbed. Jess stroked his head and neck and let him cry.

After a while, the tears were spent and the boy lifted his head and wiped his sleeve across his tear streaked face. Sniffing hard, he tilted his head back trying to get his nose to stop running.

"You might try one of those wash rags on the table there," Jess teased him.

Mike brightened a little. Flashing a bashful smile, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face and blew his nose.

"Better?" Jess asked.

Mike nodded. Jess reached out his hand again, and Mike wrapped both of his around it, looking at Jess with tear damp eyes. "Are you...mad at me?"

"Mad at you! What're you talkin' about?"

The boy's face crumpled with embarrassment. "Because… I...was crying…"

"Hey, Tiger," he said gently, "Sometimes it's real good to get things out. Cryin' is just as important as laughin'."

"Are you sure?" This didn't match up with what he'd heard from the boys at school. Besides, he'd never seen Jess or Slim cry.

"Sure as shootin'!"

"I've never seen you or Slim cry," he said, voicing what he was thinking.

"You just ain't been around us enough," Jess said, sadness in the depth of his blue eyes. "Some things are worth cryin' about. I'd cry on the spot if I lost you."

"You would?"

"You know, your cryin' just now showed me how much you care about me."

"It did?" The boy forgot some promises. He gently crawled into the bed next to Jess and carefully snuggled up to him. "I do care about you, Jess. I love you a lot."

"I love you, too, Mike." He savored the boy's closeness. "I love you, too…"

After a while, Mike said timidly, his face hidden against Jess's shoulder, "You're going to get well, aren't you?"

A wave of helpless grief swept over Jess. He couldn't find the breath to answer the question.

"Please, Jess!" Mike cried, pressing closer to him, "Please, promise me you'll get well!"

Jess struggled for control, fighting physical pain and crushing sorrow. He had to do this right. "I can promise I'll stay with you as long as I can," he said slowly.

Mike saw through this with surprising swiftness. "Why not for always? You got to promise me that! Always!"

"I can't promise that," Jess said sadly. "I wish I could."

"Why can't you? You got to!" Mike was crying again.

Jess tightened his arm around the boy, his own face creased with agony. He waited a minute, trying to get his breath, hoping he was going to use the right words. "Because… because, some things ain't up to me, Tiger."

"I don't care! You got to promise!" Mike locked down his grip on Jess, clinging to him with all his might. "You got to!" he sobbed.

Jess gasped. "Mike!" he ground out, "You're... hurtin' me…"

Once more it took a moment for these words to penetrate Mike's grief but when they did he pulled away instantly, still crying but terrified that he'd hurt his foster father. "I...I'm sorry…" he wept. "I...didn't mean...to… I just wanted you to promise.." He fell on the bed again, making sure he only got close enough just to touch Jess' side.

Jess was breathing hard, but he managed to say, "It's...OK...I'm OK…" When the pain eased a little, he rubbed the boy's arm, giving it quick, gentle squeezes, knowing he had to finish what he'd started. "Look, Mike," he said, his voice raspy but clear, "I can't tell the good Lord what to do. I'm goin' to fight hard to stay here with you, as hard as I can, but… I think the Lord knows what he's doin' and no matter what happens, everything will be OK."

"I don't want you to die! I don't care what the Lord wants!"

"Some things can be pretty hard to accept, Tiger, but if he calls me home, I guess he's got his reasons."

"You got to tell him you can't come! Then he'll let you stay here with me."

"I ain't the one to tell him that."

"Do you think it would help if I pray? I mean really pray hard for him to let you stay?"

Jess was careful with his answer. "It can't hurt," he said, "but if the Lord don't do what you want him to, I don't want you thinkin' I died because you didn't pray hard enough."

Mike pondered this, not just with his mind but with his heart, too. "I think he's already decided," he said with a quietness that surprised Jess. "You're going to get well."

"I hope you're right, Tiger. But now I'm goin' to ask you to promise me somethin'."

"What?" Mike peeked up him, suspicious.

"Even if I don't make it, even if I die….I want you to go livin' your life. There' a lot more of it for you - whether I'm around or not. Can you promise me that?"

"But I want you!" Mike said, burying his face into Jess' side.

"I know you do. And I'm always goin' to be a part of you, no matter what. And Slim and Daisy'll be here for you. This will always be your home."

"But you're going to try to stay here with me, right? You got to promise me that."

"I promise. I'm goin' to try as hard as I can." His arm around the boy tightened, and he pulled him as close as he could. "You got to trust me, Mike. Everything's goin' to be alright."

They lay side by side for a long time, drawing comfort and strength from each other but the pain in Jess' chest finally got the best of him. Breathing was hell, and he felt like he was about to have another coughing spell.

"You got to go, now, Mike," he said gently. "Maybe you better get Slim or Daisy to come in here…"

Mike raised up to look at him and saw the grimace on Jess' face. "You're hurting, aren't you?"

"Yeah...Go on now. Go get Slim!"

Mike jumped up and ran out of the room, yelling, "Slim! Where are you? Jess needs you!"

Slim strode out of the office and into the bedroom, getting to Jess' side just before he was overcome with violent coughing. Slim pulled him upright and held him as Jess buried his head in his partner's shoulder, gagging and choking until bloody fluid flooded out into the towel Slim was holding beneath his chin.

When the coughing stopped, Jess' right hand dropped to his side. He was too exhausted to hold it up. Slim threw the stained towel aside and, holding Jess up with one hand, used another cloth to wipe his partner's face. Then he laid him down on the bed. "How're you doing?" he asked, deeply concerned.

"It's hurtin' bad, Slim…," he groaned.

"You need to get some rest. Do want some laudanum?"

"It's not that bad," Jess lied. "I...don't like… that stuff. It makes me...feel like I been drinkin' too much."

"At least you could sleep. Sometimes I think you're trying to prove something to yourself," Slim said, irritated that he couldn't get Jess to be sensible and anxious that he couldn't take his pain away.

"That ain't so!" Jess snapped back. "I'd find somethin'...a damn sight...easier...to do that...if I was tryin' to that."

"Alright, but you need to try to get some sleep – now!"

Jess' breathing was easing a little. He nodded, but his eyes were still squeezed tight. "Just don't tell Mike I'm this bad off." He shot a quick look at Slim to make sure he heard him. "OK?"

"Sure, partner...but maybe he's too much for you. We better wait a while before he comes in here again."

"No!" Jess said with all the strength he had. "I need him. And he needs me. I want to spend all the time I can with him."

Slim frowned again. It seemed like he was always having to make hard decisions about what was best for Jess, but being with Mike was clearly important to his partner. "OK, but you got to try to get some rest." He adjusted the pillow beneath Jess' head. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Slim pulled up a chair and leaned back in it, tired and worried. A relapse was always a threat. Jess looked sicker now than he had in the last couple of days and his pain seemed to be getting worse again. The rancher made himself as comfortable as he could and settled down to keep watch. After a while, Jess fell into a restless sleep. With the best of intentions to stay awake, Slim dozed, too.

About one o'clock in the morning, Jess' restlessness got worse, and he started groaning. All of a sudden, he sat straight up in bed as if startled out of a very bad dream. Then he fell back on his left side and doubled up in agony, rolling his upper body half way off the bed and fighting for breath. He tried to call for his partner, but his cry for help was muffled by a choking gurgle in his throat.

Slim heard him and woke up like he'd been stung by a scorpion. He was at Jess' side in one long stride and caught him before he fell on the floor. As gently as he could, he propped up on the pillows.

"Slim…" Jess moaned. His whole face seemed to have contracted in pain. With his eyes tightly shut, he reached out into the void, seeking contact with his partner.

"I'm here," Slim said and grabbed his hand. "It's OK. Take it easy, Jess. You're only going to make it worse moving around."

"It hurts... so much! Oh, God, it hurts, Slim!" he cried.

"Hold on. I'll get the painkiller." Slim filled the glass on the bedside table with water and dribbled an extra amount of laudanum into it. "Here," he said, lifting him up so he could drink, "this will help."

After he lay back down on the pillows, Jess stared up at Slim with bloodshot eyes. He didn't seem fully conscious. Another wave of agony hit him and he choked on a scream, clinging frantically to Slim's arm. He lay back panting. The laudanum was taking effect, but it wasn't enough to put him to sleep. He grimaced as the fire in his chest shot through him again. When it passed, he lay gasping for air, but trying to talk.

"I...was dreamin'...," he slurred out the words, "…about...Laura..."

"About Laura?" Slim asked, breathing hard. Wrestling with Jess' sickness was testing the big man's strength, and he didn't like the way Jess was talking. It sounded like a premonition of death. "Jess, she's been gone for a long time."

"It...it didn't start out with her. It was that man with the black cloak. I saw his face...a skull...he's after me…" Jess seemed to drift off for a moment, but then he said, "He was standing...on a ...rock...but that rock...fell apart... A black hole...was under it. That devil was reachin' for me…" His voice tightened with fear. "He was...tryin' to pull me into that hole… then he turned into Laura… There was...a little gap...between us… She called out to me… I wanted to jump over that gap." He stopped, and his eyes opened. He looked at Slim with a mixture of sadness and awe. "...but I heard Mike callin' me… I couldn't jump." He reached for Slim's hand again. "Then she changed back...back to that devil…. He grabbed me and pulled me over, down into that hole. I fell… and fell… and I heard Mike screamin' and Laura screamin', too. And Death was laughin' and laughin'..."

With his free hand, Slim used a damp cloth to wipe beads of sweat from Jess' forehead. "You sure don't need a dream like that, partner. And you shouldn't pay too much attention to it. It's just a dream."

Jess broke out into another fit of coughing and gagging. He couldn't get enough oxygen. Gasping and panting and feeling panicked, he clung to his partner. Slim was in despair, unable to help him.

"I need...some... more of that stuff..." Jess choked out.

Slim hurriedly filled another glass with water and put a liberal amount of painkiller in it. No side effect of the medicine could be worse than what Jess was going through. He helped Jess get it down and held him in his arms until the numbing effect kicked in. The pain finally eased, and Jess' heavy breathing quieted. As his tense body relaxed, his head slowly sagged against Slim's chest, and he slept.

Slim settled him on the bed once more, but when he started to pull the bed covers over him, he discovered to his horror a blood stain on the sheet the size of a man's hand. The wound had broken open. Slim knew there was a good chance there was internal bleeding, too. No wonder Jess had been in such pain. The rancher made an instantaneous decision. There was nothing more he could do here to help Jess. He had to ride to town for Doc Higgins. Slim finished covering Jess up and strode out of the room.

In the living room, he grabbed his gun belt and buckled it on, then hurried to his office and got Jess' gun out of one of the desk drawers. He made sure it was loaded, stuck it in his waist band, ran up the stairs and knocked at Daisy's door. He saw the light of her lamp at the bottom of the door just before she opened it, still pulling on her robe.

"What wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

Slim briefly explained the situation, and she ran down the steps with him to Jess' room. She quickly checked the wounded man out and agreed with Slim that the only thing to do was go to town for Doc Higgins. Before he turned to leave, Slim pulled Jess' revolver from his waistband and handed it to her.

"I don't think that gang is anywhere around here but just in case…" he said.

She nodded. "I know where the rifle is, too. You go on now. We'll be fine."

It was nearly dawn when Slim got back with the doctor. Higgins examined Jess thoroughly, listening intently through his stethoscope to his lungs. He removed the blood soaked bandage from the oozing wound and seemed relieved.

"It looks worse than it is," he said. "There's a lot of noise in his lungs I don't like, but there's no indication that there's internal bleeding."

"Thank God!" Daisy exclaimed.

"Are you sure about that?" Slim asked. It was hard for him to believe something else wasn't wrong. Jess had been in too much pain.

"I would have to cut him open to be sure. He wouldn't survive that."

Slim eased off. He knew the truth of what Higgins said.

With quick efficiency, the doctor, with Daisy's help, rewrapped a perfectly fitted bandage around Jess' chest, shoulder and arm. Thanks to the laudanum, Jess went through everything without moving or making a sound. His breathing was calm and steady, and if not that of a healthy person, at least he was free of the horrible rattling of the coughing attacks. His pulse was relatively stable, too. Listening through the stethoscope, the doctor felt some satisfaction that Jess' heartbeat was strong, even though it was faster than it should be. He took off the instrument and put it back in his medical bag.

"No matter what he went through earlier," he said, turning to face Slim, "at the moment he's doing relatively well. This wasn't exactly harmless, but it wasn't life-threatening either. Thankfully, it seems to have been only external."

"You got an idea why it happened?" Slim asked, wanting to confirm what he already suspected.

"It looks like a tear from too much moving around or moving too quickly. What's he been doing today?"

After Slim described the evening's events, Dan was medically indignant. "You shouldn't have told him about Mike. Or let the boy see him. No wonder that affected his physical condition. It was too soon."

"It's hard to say no to him, Doc. He knew I wasn't telling him everything. I can't lie to him. And he woke up after a nightmare about Laura. That's when it got really bad."

"Laura? That's the wife that died, right? From what I know that was a long time ago."

"She was pretty real to him in the dream. He's been having nightmares of some kind of devil with a black cloak. He thinks he's death and that he's coming after him. He was real upset and hurting - as bad as I've ever seen. I was afraid the coughing was going to kill him."

"Well," Dan said, "there's risk in everything right now. Jess is a long way from being over the hump, and we can't be sure of anything for a long time to come."

"I gave him a lot of laudanum. When I see him sleeping so hard, I wonder if it was too much. I...I wonder if he'll wake up."

"Don't worry. He's just heavily sedated. He'll sleep for at least twenty-four hours, maybe more."

"You think he'll have any bad effects from the high dose?"

"I don't believe so."

"Jess doesn't like that stuff. He's afraid he'll get so he needs all the time."

"That's not a danger for Jess," Higgins said. "He's too strong-willed. I want him to take it when he needs it instead of waiting until he needs a double dose. He should be glad it makes the pain more bearable."

"You know Jess."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do." The doctor took his patient's pulse again and felt his forehead to see if his fever had risen. "Everything seems to be holding steady," he said, relieved. He gathered his things, and Daisy walked with him to the front door.

The sun had risen and the doctor still had a long day ahead of him, but his horse knew the way back to Laramie. Dan gave him his head and slept as best as he could, his arms wrapped around the reins and locked together for balance as the buggy bounced toward town.

Jess slept through the day and the following night. Even that morning he had trouble waking up, but the long rest proved to be a more effective medicine than anything Doc Higgins could have prescribed.

END OF CHAPTER 12


	13. Chapter 13

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 13

Thirty-three hours later Jess woke up. Daisy had been on duty that morning but Slim took over about noon so she could prepare lunch. He and Mike had been shoeing horses and cleaning out stalls since breakfast. Now he was glad to turn the boy over to Daisy and settle down in the chair beside Jess' bed for a well-earned rest. He'd just closed his eyes, ready to catch up on some sleep, when he heard Jess move around restlessly. He stood up quickly and leaned over him to check him out.

Jess' eyes blinked open. He looked dazed. He slowly raised a hand that trembled with weakness and ran it over his face, looking at Slim in confusion.

"Hey, partner," Slim said. "I'm glad you finally woke up." He pulled the chair up close to the bed and sat down again, leaning toward Jess and smiling.

"What...what time is it?" Jess asked in a hoarse voice.

"About noon. The stage'll be here pretty soon."

"That stuff you gave me last night must've really knocked me out."

"You can that say again. It's Monday, Jess. You've been asleep for over thirty hours."

"I can't remember." Jess closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath but realized he couldn't do that. The pain was still there.

"You can thank that double dose of laudanum for that. Your wound broke open. That's why you were hurting so much. I rode to town and got Doc Higgins out here. He took the old bandage off and checked you over. The good news is, there was no internal bleeding."

"I can remember hurtin' like hell."

"Yeah. I remember that too. Doc said you don't need to let things get so bad. You need to take a dose of laudanum as soon as the pain starts getting bad. That way you won't need a double dose again."

"I don't want to get used to that stuff. I know what it does to you when you can't get off of it."

"Doc says you're too hard headed for that to happen. He wants you to take it when you need it."

"Well, I think different," Jess shot back.

"It's still up to you, but I think the doc is right."

Jess was about to make another comeback when a wave of pain hit him. He gasped for breath but that made it worse. He clenched his jaw and held his breath until the spasm passed. A fit of coughing and wheezing followed. Slim held him upright until it finally subsided, then helped him drink a glass of water.

"How're you feeling?" he asked when Jess closed his eyes and lay back against the pillows.

"Like a broke-down horse." He ran his hand over the dark stubble of beard on his face. Daisy hadn't shaved him while he was asleep. "No good for nothin' anymore. And don't say that ain't true!"

"It's a good thing I don't think the same way," Slim said, turning to leave the room.

"Where're you goin'?" Jess said, not ready to let Slim go yet.

"Well, I was going to tell Daisy you're awake and to bring you something to eat - and get that briar patch off your face. You look like a picture on one of Mort's wanted posters."

That was a little too close to home for Jess. "That ain't funny," he grumbled.

"I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know it," Jess said, full of contradictions. "I look more like a washed up cowpoke. And a razor ain't goin' to change that." Another spasm of pain gripped him and he gasped but didn't start coughing. Instead, he made an ominous wheezing sound as he struggled to breathe. Slim propped him up higher with another pillow behind his back but as he once more started to leave the room, Jess stopped him again. "Can I get some more water?" he asked, "I'm dried out from talking so much."

Slim patiently helped him down another glass but when he heard the stage rolling in he knew he would have to leave. "Daisy'll be here in a minute or two. She'll have something else for you to drink, maybe some chicken soup. OK, partner?"

Jess nodded reluctantly, looking a like a disgruntled little boy, but Daisy came into the room almost immediately with a bowl of beef broth and some mashed and sweetened carrots. The food tasted better to Jess than it had since he'd been wounded. After he'd eaten, she quickly and expertly shaved him, then felt safe enough to leave him while she went back to the kitchen to start a pie she was making for supper. Before she left, she set a long handled bell on the table beside the bed.

"I can hear you if you call me," she said, "but you might not be able to if you start coughing. I'll be back every few minutes to check on you, but if you need to, you ring this bell and I'll be here before you know it."

Jess lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He was still a little groggy from the laudanum but for the first time, he felt a twinge of boredom. Lying in bed without anyone to talk or anything to do was not very pleasant.

In the kitchen, Daisy rushed to finish her chores. She didn't like to leave Jess alone for even a few minutes but there were things that needed to be done. And she also needed to keep an eye on Mike. It had been difficult to keep him out of Jess' room once he'd heard he was awake. He'd washed the dishes from lunch and was finished with that task. She set him to slicing apples that she'd just peeled for her pie but when that was done, she ran out of chores for him.

"You've done a wonderful job, Mike!" she said brightly. "Now go outside and help Slim. He has a lot of things for you to do this afternoon."

"Can't I go see Jess now?" he begged.

"No, Mike. Not now."

"Why not? He's not sleeping anymore."

"No, Mike!" she repeated pleasantly. "Go on now. Didn't I hear you say you were going to be extra good while Jess is sick?"

Mike muttered something under his breath, pilfered a few of the sliced apples on his way out and walked into the living room with every intention of going outside to help Slim - but the longing to see Jess was too much for him. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Daisy was at the stove and couldn't see him. Changing directions, he tiptoed toward the bedroom and slipped quietly to Jess' bedside.

Jess' eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep but when Mike reached out and touched him he startled awake and reflexively drew his hand away. Mike almost dropped the apples stacked artfully in his hand.

"I..I'm sorry! I..didn't mean to wake you up!" he stammered.

"Don't worry," Jess said, still hoarse but feeling better than he had when he first came to. "I wasn't asleep. I just got spooked because I wasn't expectin' you." He reached for the boy's free hand and tugged on him so he would sit down on the edge of the bed. "Does Daisy know you're in here?"

Mike shook his head, looking guilty.

"Then be careful and don't let her find you!" Jess teased him. "Otherwise, we'll both be in trouble."

"I just wanted to see you," Mike whined. "They wouldn't let me come in all morning. Are you mad at me?"

"Nah, Tiger. Just don't make a habit of sneakin' around. From now on, get the go ahead first, OK?"

"Why?"

Jess had to think about this one, then decided on the simple answer. "Because I said so."

"It's really because you're still real sick, isn't it?" Mike said sadly. He wasn't that easily fooled.

"Yeah. That's one of the reasons," Jess answered, looking sad, too. Then he brightened up. "Hey, did you bring those apples for me? When're goin' to eat 'em? Or are you tryin' to warm 'em up holding on to them like that?"

Mike smiled a little and decided he was going to feed them to Jess. "You don't have to do anything, OK?" he said, holding a slice out for Jess to take a bite of. "Just chew it up real good so you don't get choked."

"You're doing this like Daisy does," Jess said, taking a small bite and chewing it as well as he could.

"Thou shalt not talk while eating!" Mike intoned solemnly, repeating a very familiar commandment he'd heard many times at the dinner table. "If you do, you'll start coughing again," he continued seriously.

Mike was eating more apples than he fed to Jess. When he demolished the last one, he said, "I can bring you a whole bunch of them if you want some more. I sliced them myself! Daisy's going to make a pie."

"Maybe it'd be better if you didn't swipe anymore. Daisy might not have enough for that pie – and," Jess smiled a little, "you might get caught!"

"Then she really wouldn't let me see you," Mike said, worried. He grabbed Jess' hand and held on to it as if he might be pulled away from him at any minute. Jess tightened his grip on the boy's hand, too. For a minute or two, they were both quiet, savoring the strength and comfort that flowed from physically touching each other.

Mike broke the silence. "You know what?" He reached out and touched Jess' beard. "You look like a pirate."

Jess grinned at him, glad the boy was thinking about something cheerful. "What's a pirate look like?"

"Like you do!" Mike said reasonably. "They got a beard. But a real pirate has a patch over one eye - like this…" He held his hand over his left eye and cocked his head. "Have you ever seen a real pirate?"

"Not yet."

"Too bad."

"I don't know about that. Pirates are pretty nasty characters."

"But you wouldn't be afraid of them!"

"I ain't so sure about that."

"I am! You'd beat them all up. Then you'd be the captain!"

Jess shook his head, grinning. "I think you been readin' too many dime novels."

Mike squeezed one eye shut and grimaced like he had a toothache. "Only a couple."

"Do they tell about what happens when a pirate gets caught? They hang 'em, you know."

"Aww, they wouldn't hang you. You'd escape!"

"If you say so…"

"I say so!" The boy was caught up in the fun of his imagination and forgot all the warnings and promises that had gone before. He threw his arm around Jess' neck and rubbed his chin against his foster father's dark stubble. "I love you a lot, Jess!"

"I love you, too, Tiger," Jess said, putting his right arm around the boy and hugging him.

Mike was quiet for a minute before very timidly saying, "Then how come I can't call you 'Pa'? I just call you 'Jess'."

Jess pulled back enough to see him. Mike was looking at him with eyes dark with worry and embarrassment and some feeling Jess had a hard time identifying. It was as if Mike wanted to create a minor problem as a way to get to the life threatening problem they both faced.

"Mike," Jess said seriously, "it don't matter what you call me. It's what you feel in your heart that counts. What does that say?"

"It says… it says...that I'd rather have _you_ for a father than anybody else. I can talk to you. The other kids at school are always talking about what a hard time their pa's give them. Before you got hurt, Dennis Rover came in with a black eye and he said his pa gave it to him! And Joe told his pa spanked him so hard he couldn't even sit down. Mr. Courtney is always drunk and beats up Danny almost every day. I wouldn't trade you for any of them! I'd rather be dead!"

"Ain't you exaggeratin' some?"

"No! I'm not!" Mike exclaimed passionately, pressing his face into Jess's shoulder. Then he quieted down and said in a broken, scared voice, "That's why you got to get well! I don't know what I'd do if….."

"Hey, Tiger," Jess said, rubbing his knuckles gently on the boy's cheek. "I promised I would try as hard as I can."

"Have you been trying? Really trying?"

"Sure! That's why I slept so long! I feel a little bit better already." It wasn't the absolute truth, but it wasn't a lie either.

"That's great!" Mike said with the sudden enthusiasm of a child who had just heard what he wanted to hear. "I've been praying to God a lot! It's probably working. That's why you feel better."

"Thanks, Mike," Jess said, not wanting to put a damper on his faith. He maneuvered into a less painful position and rubbed the boy's back, feeling so grateful for the boy's love and nearness.

He saw Daisy coming through the door just in time to wave a "do not disturb" signal to her. She understood him immediately and quietly withdrew without the reprimand she was about to give Mike for disobeying her. She knew Jess would handle things. She'd often watched him train wild young horses with a gentle that overcame their obstinacy without damaging their spirit. She smiled a little as she thought about him handling Mike's youthful mischief in the same way.

In the days that followed, immobility and idleness became a growing problem for Jess. He hated lying in bed with nothing to do. He felt useless - and he was plagued by the nagging fear that he would never be physically strong and active again. He avoided the danger of obsessive worry by taking refuge in sleep but even this was a source of anxiety for him. What if sleep and tiredness were going to be the biggest part of his life from now on? Nevertheless, unrelenting pain - and boredom - made it easier for Slim and Daisy to convince him to take laudanum when he needed it. He didn't like doing it but despite his fears, the long periods of sleep it gave him helped him heal. Although he was still weak and had repeated coughing attacks, he got a little better every day.

One night he was feeling particularly restless when Slim came in for a visit after the evening chores were done.

"Hey!" Jess was glad to see him. He tried to sit up straighter. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

"That's the best compliment I've had in a while. How're you feeling."

"Some better but not good enough to get out of this bed. I'm tellin' you, Slim, I'm goin' to crawl out of here if Doc keeps me here much longer."

"You're going to have to do what Doc says if you don't want a setback. He said that wound's beginning to heal up real good, but…"

"I know it," Jess interrupted, not wanting to hear the same song and dance again. He knew it by heart.

"How's the pain?"

"Not bad right now. It don't want to me to forget about it though. It hurts every time I try to take a deep breath."

"You got to remember to be careful."

"Don't worry. Between you and this…" he put his hand on his chest, "…it's hard to forget. Anyway, what's going on around here? What're you workin' on now?" he asked, tired of talking about his health.

"Just the usual stuff. There's a lot to do before winter really sets in." Slim's brow crinkled in a teasing smile as he leaned toward Jess. "There'll still be plenty of work for you to do when you get better!"

"Well, like what?" Jess was serious. Just thinking about being active felt good. "I know for sure that northern fence is in bad shape. If it ain't fixed, we'll lose a lot of animals. The horses'll be fine but those stupid cows'll starve to death before they'll think of gettin' the grass underneath the snow."

"I know it, but it would take a week or so, maybe two. Who would take care of the stages if I'm up there? Ben's working on his son's spread now and Daisy and Mike can't do it."

"Let the drivers do it themselves."

"Yeah…," Slim looked down, once more debating the right thing to tell Jess. "To be honest," he finally said, "there's another reason. I don't want to be that far away from the house."

"It better not be because of me!"

"Not this time, not entirely. It's Daisy and Mike. I don't want to leave them alone as long as that cutthroat gang is still out there. Losing a few cows won't hurt us but I couldn't take it if something happened to them - or to you. I got enough on my conscience."

"You ain't got me on your conscious!" Jess shot back, dark brows contracting in anger. "How come you can't get that through your thick head?"

"I'm not looking for an argument," Slim said with stern authority. "We're probably always going to disagree about that but I guess we can agree about Daisy and Mike. I had to go to town for supplies a couple of days ago. Mike went with me but I couldn't have gotten to you or Daisy if something bad happened. And I'm not going to do that again!" he said adamantly.

Jess knew that tone of voice. When his partner sounded like that, there was no point in trying to change his mind. Instead, he took as deep a breath as he could and asked, "I can't stop you if you want to keep on being a stubborn cuss. How's much hay did we get this year?"

Slim was glad to talk about something else. "Not as much as last year, but enough. Mike was a big help."

"I'm glad to hear it but don't go pushin' him too hard. He's just a kid.

"I know it - and sometimes he makes more work than he does. He was jumping around in the hay this afternoon and about to fall out of the hayloft and break his neck. I sent inside to work with Daisy. She's making him do some school work but he's not liking it much."

"I bet." Jess smiled. "It won't hurt him, and he won't have so much catching up to do."

"Maybe you ought to talk to him about going back to school. He'll pay more attention to you than me or Daisy."

"I'll have to find the right time. He's still got a lot to deal with. I don't want to get ahead of myself - or him."

Just then, Daisy stuck her head through the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but Mike is asking if he can come in for a visit."

"Sure!" Jess said. "He don't need to ask as far as I'm concerned."

Daisy turned around to get him but Mike was already there. He eased past Daisy, carefully hiding a handful of cookies he'd swiped from the kitchen against his side. Maneuvering so nobody in the room could see them was difficult but he managed it, or at least, he thought he did. He sidled up to Jess' to the left side of Jess' bed, bright-eyed with the secret he held.

Slim hid a smile. "I think I better leave you two alone," he said and rose to leave. He ushered an amused Daisy out of the room and closed the door.

Mike looked around to make sure he was alone with Jess, then came over to his unwounded side and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Jess smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. "Well, cowboy, what've you got there?"

Mike waved the cookies under Jess' nose. "I found them in the kitchen," he said.

"It's kind of hard to believe Daisy's that careless," Jess said with a grin.

"They're real good! I made them by myself. Well..., Aunt Daisy helped me a little bit. You're going to have to be careful you don't get crumbs in the bed."

"Then you're going to have to help me - and I can't eat 'em all or I'll get a bellyache." Jess dove for one of the cookies in Mike's hand.

"Don't worry. I'll eat a couple." When the cookies had disappeared, Mike looked at the crumbs left in his hand, thinking about how to dispose of them. He poured them on to the floor and started stepping on them. "It's fun to crush them up. They're crunchy."

"I don't believe Daisy would agree with you on that," Jess said mildly.

"I'm just trying to make sure they don't get in your bed," Mike explained. "They feel real sticky, like ants biting you or something. You want some more?"

"Nah, not right now."

"If you don't want any more, I don't either," Mike said righteously.

"Well, you baked some first class cookies," he assured the boy, not letting on that he didn't really didn't know how they tasted. Everything still seemed bland to him.

"I worked really hard today!" Mike announced, proud of himself.

"You did?"

"Yep. I helped Slim with the hay. He said it would have taken him twice as long without me."

"I'm proud of you, Tiger. Winter feed is real important. You know what else is important?" he said, sensing an opening.

"What?"

"Gettin' your education. I hear you've been studyin' with Daisy."

"Yeah! Miss Finch told me I don't have to go to school again until you get better."

"Well, I am gettin' better. Maybe it's time for you to think about goin' back."

"Oh, that's OK. Aunt Daisy is making me study real hard."

"Don't you want to go back?"

"Yeah, but…. But… are you really getting better?" Mike blurted out. "I mean that… that… Jess, I'm still scared. You're...you're still really sick!"

"Yeah… and I will be for a while. It might be weeks before I'm on my feet again. You want Miss Finch to wait that long?'

"No… but I...I would like…" He looked at Jess helplessly, unable to explain what he was feeling.

"It's OK, partner," Jess said, seeing his distress. "You don't have to decide right now. Just do some thinkin' about it, alright?"

"If I go back to school, will you promise to get well quick?"

"Look, Mike, I already told you what I can promise and what I can't. That ain't changed."

"But … but… you could… What if you ….. What if … I thought you were still going to ...to die? I asked Miss Finch what it's like when you die. But I don't want to know now. I want you to live!"

"Right now I'm still alive, Tiger." Jess saw Mike was on the verge of tears. His voice lightened and he smiled. "I want to keep it that way, even if you don't go back to school!"

Mike's head reared back. Nose in the air, he looked at Jess incredulously, still closer to crying than laughing as he was figuring this obscure message out. Then his face brightened.

"You know what?" he asked suddenly, "You don't look like a pirate today."

"More like a ghost?" Jess teased.

"The best ghost ever!"

Mike slipped down the bed and laid his head next to Jess'. This was one of those moments he wished would last forever. He felt Jess' arm on his back, heard his heart beating, felt the movement of his chest as he breathed. The warmth and closeness of his foster father let the boy forget his problems and fears for a while and think things through.

"How much does it hurt when you get shot?" he suddenly asked, carefully stroking Jess' bandaged left shoulder.

"It hurts a lot! I hope it's somethin' you won't ever know about first hand."

"Does it hurt as much as scraping your knee?"

"A lot more. Look, Tiger, I don't want to think about that right now."

"Are you still hurting a lot?" Mike continued without missing a beat

"Sometimes."

"Now?"

"Nope. Not now." As Jess said it, he realized for the first time he didn't have to lie.

"But the one night…. You were hurting real bad, weren't you?"

Jess wondered what the boy was getting at. "Yeah, it's been pretty bad sometimes."

"Was it as bad, as bad as it was...when...when the man….I mean, when...he shot you?"

"I think it was worse," Jess said, deciding to answer the questions directly.

"I think so, too!" Mike raised his head and looked at Jess with a mixture of sadness and fear. "I … heard you… You...screamed." His young face was creased with pain. "It must have hurt a lot then, right?"

"I guess so. I don't remember that part of things."

Mike was staring at his foster father without seeing him. In his mind's eye, a picture of that terrible moment flashed before him. He clenched his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath but looking like he wanted to scream out loud.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jess asked gently.

Mike buried his head in Jess' shoulder. "I can't."

"Just take it slow. Maybe it wouldn't bother you so much if you could tell me what you remember. Slim was knocked out and Daisy fainted. You're the only one who really knows what happened."

"You really don't remember?"

"Nope. When I came to, I didn't even know what was making me hurt so much."

"You aren't just saying that because of me, are you?"

"You can ask Slim. And, anyway, why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know." Mike looked him thoughtfully. All of a sudden the memories of his contorted face, the blood gushing from his mouth, the screaming and the coughing flooded through him. He dove into Jess' shoulder again and clung to him tightly. "It was awful, Jess, really awful!" He was crying and talking at the same time. "I don't want...to think...about...it...but I can't forget! Why did that man do that? Why? I don't understand!"

"Me, either, Mike. I can't answer that question." Jess was a little surprised he could talk about it in a detached way. "Bad people do things like that. The man who shot me probably couldn't explain it himself."

"Didn't you see him when you came up on the porch?"

"No. Where was he?"

"Behind the window next to the door. You really didn't see him?"

"From the outside, you can't see inside a window looking into a dark room. There's too much reflection."

"Then you really didn't know he was there. If you _had_ known it, you would've shot him."

"I would've tried. Why don't you tell me everything from the beginning."

"I don't know how to start. Everything gets mixed up."

"Why don't you start by tellin' me why you weren't in school that day."

Jess' deep, calm voice broke through Mike's confusion and opened a hole in the wall he'd built to protect himself from horrific reality. That voice penetrated deep into his mind and heart and ordered his chaotic thoughts. For Mike, hearing it eased the fear the memories stirred up and gave him the courage to talk about them - Jess' voice and the warmth of his nearness. Maybe all this would be more bearable if he told him about it. Once he got started, he didn't stop. He told his foster father what he remembered of that terrible day, sometimes haltingly, sometimes weeping, but getting it all out as he remembered it.

Jess listened patiently, interrupting only when the boy couldn't find the words or to straighten something out that he didn't understand. Mike didn't realize how hard it was for Jess to hear the details what had happened. Slim hadn't known them or had held them back - or maybe he'd shoved them way down somewhere inside himself and didn't remember them either. But Mike had seen it all. His unfiltered description made the nightmare a reality. Jess made it through by hanging on to Mike as much as Mike was holding on to him, reminding himself that it was good for the boy to talk about it.

At the end, Mike's face was wet with tears but he seemed to be at peace. He reached over and touched Jess' wounded shoulder so lightly Jess couldn't feel it. "Are you hurt real bad inside?" he asked.

This time Jess lied deliberately. "It looks worse than it is."

"I heard Doc Higgins say that it's ...real dangerous...if you start bleeding inside where you can't see it."

"Well, it ain't doin' that now."

"But it's real dangerous if it did!" He got quiet for a minute, then asked, "Did it hurt a lot when Doc burned it so it wouldn't bleed anymore?"

The thought of Mike seeing that made Jess a little sick. "Were you in the room when that happened?" he asked. Mike negative shake of the head relieved his anxiety a little. "So how come you know about it?"

"I heard them talking. So tell me. Did it hurt?"

"No. I didn't feel anything."

"Because you were...unconscious?"

"Yeah."

"Aunt Daisy said it was like you were sound asleep. Is that right?"

"She's right about that, Mike. I didn't know anything."

Mike snuggled closer to him. "I'm so scared you won't get well. Real scared."

"Well, don't be, Tiger. You ain't supposed to be worryin' about things that haven't happened yet and probably never will."

"But I heard you coughing and I saw you spitting up blood."

"Maybe you just thought you saw that," Jess said trying to minimize the boy's fears. "It wasn't as bad as you think it was."

Mike raised his head and looked Jess straight in the eye. "NO, Jess! I saw it! Blood was all over you...it ran out of your mouth. You started coughing and….and spit more blood. I saw that! I thought you were going to die!" He started to tremble. It was hard to say what worse, the memory or Jess was doubting him.

"Hey, Mike! I believe you!" Jess hugged him tighter. "If that's the way it was, that's the way it was. Like I told you, I can't remember anything. And you don't need to keep hurtin' so much about it. It's over. I know you can't forget it. I wish you could. But you got to try to keep on goin' and not let bad memories hold you back. I'm not in that much pain anymore - and you're here with me and we can talk to each other any time we want to. Everything's goin' to be OK."

Mike didn't say anything but his tight shoulders relaxed some. Taking that as a good sign, Jess added, "We got a lot to thankful for. Don't worry so much about the past, Tiger. It don't matter anymore. And don't worry about what might be comin' down the road tomorrow or the next day. Right now is what counts. A cowboy like you can understand that."

Mike was quiet, thinking about what Jess said. After a while, he said, "I don't think I know what you mean," he said.

"Well, I know what I mean." He ruffled the boy's hair. "Let's just work on being happy right now."

Mike looked up at him, studying him, trying to understand. "OK!" he said, his face brightening a little. "I'll try." He lay back down, huddled as close as he could get to his foster father. Suddenly he asked, "Do you hate him?"

"Hate who?" Jess said but he knew who he meant.

"The man who shot you. Hal. He hurt you! I hate him!"

"I don't think I've ever hated anybody. Maybe, but I don't think so."

"But somebody like Hal…. He's bad!"

"Not even him. If I did, I wouldn't be hurtin' him. I'd only be hurtin' myself - and the folks I care about."

"What do you mean?" Mike was having a hard time with so many mystifying thoughts being thrown at him in such a short period of time.

"Hate's kind of like an animal that's got rabies. It eats away the good in people and makes them bad. When a man starts hatin' another man, that hate will kill him. He starts hatin' himself."

"That's what Slim said. But I don't know why you don't hate Hal!"

"I don't know him. How can I hate somebody I don't know?"

"But if you saw him, would you hate him?"

"No, I hope not. I might get mad. In fact, I am mad about what he did to you and everybody else - even me - but especially you. I hope they catch him and hang before he hurts somebody else."

"If you want him to hang you got to hate him."

"No. That ain't true. Not like you're talkin' about. I just want justice done - and to stop him from doin' bad things."

"Well, I hate him!" The boy exploded. All this strange talk about being happy right now and not hating people you want to hang didn't make any sense to him. "I do. I hate him! I hope rats will eat him! But first, he's got to spit up blood like you did! And hurt like you do… And…" He stopped because he couldn't think of anything bad enough.

Jess let him calm down some, then said quietly, "Can you tell me what the opposite of hate is?"

The boy thought hard about this. "When you love somebody?" he said uncertainly.

"That's what I think. Now tell me this. Can you love and hate at the same time?" He let him think about that a minute, then said, "You told me you love me, right?"

"Sure, Jess! I love you a lot. More than anything!" Mike said passionately.

"Well, if that's true - and I think it is - how can you hate Hal so much? Which is it goin' to be? You can't do both at the same time - you got a decision to make."

This took Mike by surprise. It took another minute or two for him to see the truth in it. The revulsion he felt for Hal sent a chill through him making goose bumps rise up on his arm but now that he'd faced the horror of that day, he knew it wasn't hatred. It was fear.

"I...I… maybe I don't hate him," he said at last. "I would die if I couldn't love you!" He was swinging from one extreme to the other but he'd been through a lot and still had a lot ahead of him.

"Who knows," Jess said real low, talking to himself. "I might be dead if you didn't feel that way."

"What do you mean?" Mike's anxiety was back.

Jess looked him in surprise. He hadn't expected the boy to hear him. He hadn't even realized he'd said anything out loud.

"Forget it, Mike. It didn't mean anything."

"Why would you be dead? You got to tell me!"

"Simmer down, Mike. I just said somethin' stupid. I don't want to talk about anymore. It don't mean anything!"

Mike was far from convinced but Jess' stern tone of voice backed him off. "Well, OK. If you say so," he said, looking hurt.

Jess' expression immediately lightened up. "I ain't mad at you, Mike. I'm mad at myself for runnin' my mouth about nothin'. That's all.

This satisfied Mike. With a deep sigh of relief, he snuggled up to Jess again. He was learning what it meant to be happy right now.

With an upsurge of his own deep affection for the boy, Jess hugged him so tightly it hurt his shoulder a little. "Thank God I got you," he said. "I don't know what I'd do without you." He was flooded with the same love he felt for Mike since he first saw him. It was as overpowering now as it was then. Jess was awed by the knowledge that this joy was found amid undercurrents of mortal danger, both then and now.

"Don't worry, Jess," Mike said softly. "I'll always stay with you. You just got to stay with me."

"I will, Mike. As long as I can. I promise."

"Then I hope you live forever! Longer than I can think of!"

"For sure, Tiger," Jess responded. He hoped that, too.

They were so involved with each other they didn't notice that Slim was standing at the door. He'd come to tell both Mike and Jess it was high time for them to get some sleep. He watched them for a moment, hearing their last exchange. He smiled a little. This was no time to bother them. He quietly withdrew.

END OF CHAPTER 13


	14. Chapter 14

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 14

The following Monday, Mike went to school for the first time in four weeks. He'd made the decision on his own, announcing it with great pride at breakfast on Sunday. Now he ran across the yard like a two legged whirlwind. He found Slim in the barn checking the harnesses for the incoming stage.

"Jess told me to ride Browny in the corral for a little bit before we head out," Mike told him.

"That's a good idea. If a horse hasn't been ridden for a while, you have to get them used to it again." He helped the boy saddle Browny then helped him mount. "Up you go!" he said. "Show him who's boss!"

The rancher led the pony out of the stall and into the corral where Browny pranced around, fighting the reins. Leaning on the fence, Slim smiled as he watched the boy put the pony through his paces. He was aware that Mike rode like Jess, upright posture, one hand hanging loosely at hip and thigh, reins held tight and close to the body. He soon had the ready-to-run pony under complete control.

"OK!" Slim called. "That's good enough. You got a tight rein on him. Before long, you'll be as good as Jess."

"I still got a lot to learn."

"Then he'll have to teach you!" Slim opened the gate and handed him his bundle of books. "Don't forget these. Now get going! And don't let Browny run at first. He still might get away from you."

"Don't worry!" Mike wrapped the book belt around the saddle horn while Slim made sure the cinch was tight. "Bye, Slim!" The boy raised a hand in farewell and headed the horse down the road to Laramie, holding Browny to a trot at first, then letting him gallop.

"Goodbye, cowboy! Don't give Miss Finch a hard time today!" he called after him, pushing back his hat and shaking his head as he watched him ride off.

Late in the morning, Mort Corey rode into the yard. He was dead tired. Slim was working outside, getting the horses and harnesses ready for the noon stage. The sheriff saw him, hitched his horse to the water trough, and went over to talk to him.

"Howdy, Mort!" Slim said. "I was wondering when we'd hear from you."

"I've been out tracking those gunmen, Slim. Just got back to town last night. It's the first time I've slept in my own bed in four weeks."

"Any sign of them?"

"Nothing that brings us any closer to catching them. They robbed a post office in Twin Forks. Just beat the clerk unconscious and left without killing anybody."

"That doesn't sound like them."

"It was them. When the clerk came to, he gave us a pretty good description of them."

Slim rubbed his chin, thinking about this. "If they're in Twin Forks they might be doubling back this way."

"Yep," Mort agreed. "They're still around, and they don't seem inclined to leave." He shook his head, weary and discouraged. "Up in the mountains, their tracks disappear into nothing. The land thereabouts is made for them to play hide and seek in. They wait until they run low on supplies, then they come out to raid and shoot innocent people for the fun of it - how's Jess?" he asked in the same breath.

"Some better," Slim answered. "But he's not over the hump yet."

"What does Doc say?" Mort asked, looking grim. He hated to ask the question and dreaded the answer. "Does he think there's going to be lasting damage?"

"He doesn't know yet. Jess is hurt bad on the inside. His rib is busted and his lungs are torn up. He has coughing fits that nearly suffocate him and he spits up blood sometimes. Even Dan doesn't know how he's made it this far. He's still in pain. He'll even take laudanum when it gets too bad."

"He must really be hurting."

"Yeah, he is. But I guess we ought to thank the good Lord he's still with us. I'm not much of a praying man, but I've done a lot of that lately."

"I'd like to see him. Is he up for a visit?"

"I think so. He likes any change in the routine - but he had a coughing attack early this morning. I don't know if he's awake. Daisy's in the house. She'll check on Jess to see if he's awake and she'll give you a cup of coffee if you ask her real nice."

"How much does he know about what went on?" Mort asked before leaving. "I mean about Mike seeing the whole thing? I don't want to say anything that'll upset him."

"He knows everything. Just don't let him dwell on it or he'll start getting riled up."

"I'll be careful," Mort said and headed toward the house. He deliberately stomped up the steps and onto the porch so Daisy could hear him coming. She opened the door before he knocked.

"Good morning, Sheriff Corey!" she exclaimed, smiling at him. "Come in!"

"It's a wonderful morning, Miss Daisy…," Mort said, tipping his hat to her, then taking it off, "…now that I see you!

"It's been a long time, hasn't it? Would you like some coffee?"

"I certainly would!" He walked tiredly toward the living room table and sat down.

Daisy hurried into the kitchen and came back with a steaming cup of coffee she put in front of him before sitting down herself. "Have you been hunting for those outlaws all this time?"

"Yes, I have. I got back to Laramie late last night."

"I hope your search was successful!"

"Unfortunately...it wasn't. I just told Slim about it. We found a lot of tracks but none that led anywhere." Mort sipped his coffee. "You can't imagine how many times I cussed those killers out in my head, not that it does any good."

"Slim told me what these men have done. What kind of people are they?"

"Miss Daisy, sometimes I wonder if they're people at all. I won't shed a tear when they're brought to justice." He washed down his anger with a long swig of coffee. "For me, hurting Jess was the worst thing they've done. He's my friend." He looked up from the cup he was clenching in his hand. "Slim said it alright for me to have a visit with him. Is he awake?"

As if on cue, a familiar voice called out from the bedroom. "Mort! Is that you?"

"And I thought he was asleep," Daisy said with mild exasperation. "Please don't stay too long, Sheriff. You know Jess. Sometimes he doesn't know when he's doing more than is good for him."

"Don't worry. I'll make it short. I just want to say hello and see how he is."

"Mort!" Another call came out of the bedroom, a little louder this time.

Mort went to the door of the room and knocked on the frame. Then he stuck his head around the edge and with a broad grin on his face said, "Am I in the right place find a certain Jess Harper?"

"No!" Jess growled. "Just what's left of him." Mort laughed and walked over to the bed where he and Jess exchanged a friendly handshake. "Pull a chair," Jess said, "and sit down! I'm glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you, too, Jess. You've given us quite a scare, boy! How are you doing?"

"As well as I can with a hole in me."

"I hear you've had a bad time."

"Nah, I'm just pretending so Daisy'll take care of me," Jess' joke was cut short when he suddenly grimaced with pain, unable to hide the bolt of agony that shot through him.

"That doesn't look like pretending to me. You're hurting pretty bad."

"Yeah, I guess I am," Jess gasped, pressing his right hand to his shoulder. "But don't tell Daisy. She'll want to dose me up with that painkiller. I'd rather talk to you. Have you been out on the trail all this time?"

"Until late last night."

"Did you find anything?"

"Not much. Those guys really took us for a ride. Sometimes we followed an easy trail that led right into water or disappeared into rocky terrain. Maybe we could've tracked them if you'd been along. You got better eyes than me or any of my men."

"I'd rather been there than here. Slim told what else they've been up to, killing Bud Franklin and hurting that little 'un in Medicine Bow. Have you heard any more about that?" He ended with a gasp and dug his fingers into his bandage. "How's that girl?" he repeated; it was almost a groan.

"The sheriff in Medicine Bow telegraphed she's doing OK. I think they thought at first that it was worse than it was. In any case, she was luckier than the cashier. Luckier than you!

"We ain't talkin' about me."

"I am. I can see right in front of me what they did to you. It's probably just as well I didn't find them. If I'd gotten Hal in my sites, I might've forgotten I wear a star."

"Don't do something stupid because of me! What happened to me could've happened to anybody."

"But it didn't. It happened to you. And that makes a big difference to me personally."

"Look, Mort," Jess said grimly, "I've always had people comin' after me - and I probably always will. Something like this could've happened anytime. Hell, it might happen again with somebody that's still got a score to settle with me." He took a short, gasping breath. "The bad part of this is...that Mike saw it happen. I can understand this...but he can't."

All this talking was hard on Jess. His voice was hoarse and his breathing was fast and shallow.

"You don't look so good," Mort said, alarmed. I better get Slim or Daisy."

"No! Don't!"

"Well, can I help you somehow? Just tell me what to do."

"On that table," he nodded toward it, groaning, his eyes teary with the pain, "...the brown bottle...that's...that's laudanum... Put a few...drops ...in half a glass...of water. Hurry!"

The sheriff grabbed the pitcher of water, filled the glass half full and dribbled a few drops of medicine from the brown bottle into the water. "I hope this is enough," he said and helped Jess drink the pain-killing liquid.

Jess lay with his mouth clamped shut and his eyes squeezed tight as he waited for the savage pain to ease. It seemed like an eternity before he could breathe without his chest burning like hell. Finally, the laudanum kicked in and his breathing deepened.

"Sorry, Mort. I don't know when it's going to hit me."

"No apology needed."

"About that gang...where did you… lose their tracks?" Jess was in need of distraction, and he also wanted to know where the outlaws might be. "Have they left the Territory?"

"I'm afraid not. The last place they've been seen in Twin Forks. They held up the post office there and beat up the clerk. He was lucky."

"Twin Forks? That's not far from here."

"Way too close for me."

"It almost looks like they're coming back this way."

"I hope not. They've caused enough trouble here."

"It seems like they're moving toward the southwest. I thought they would run north through Montana into Canada."

"If they keep moving, they're just as safe hanging out around here."

"Slim showed me the posters you got out on them. Has anybody said they've seen 'em?"

"Not yet. I don't know what else to do. It makes no sense to keep on wandering around and chasing spooks. But I feel guilty squatting in my office and just waiting until something else happens. I don't know how to stop them - and I'm responsible for what's going on."

"That ain't so!" He frowned at Mort. "You sound like Slim! He's takin' all the blame, too. Nobody knows what those sidewinders are goin' to do! They're the only ones to blame for what's been happenin' - nobody else!"

"I wish it was that simple. I'm the law and I've got a responsibility for makin' sure it's kept so folks can in peace and don't have to afraid of getting shot down on their own doorstep!"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that last part." Jess' voice lowered. "You can't be everywhere at once, Mort. You're doin' everything you can - and more - but," he said, changing the subject, "I can't figure out why those wanted posters ain't turnin' up anything."

"The thing about wanted posters is that people read them and forget them - except for the bounty hunters. I've heard from some of the telegrams my deputy sent out while I was gone. They're known in the Dakotas, especially in the north. One goes by the name of Ron McPherson. The other one is Gregory Thorne, known here as our friend Hal."

"How come Gregory turns into Hal?"

"Don't ask me! Probably one name is as wrong as the other. If somebody called him Ulysses S. Grant, he would still be a ruthless killer…"

"McPherson and Thorne…." Jess murmured to himself.

"You ever heard of them?" Mort asked hopefully.

"About ten years ago, I tangled with a guy named Adam Thorne, a two-bit gunslinger down in Como, Texas." Jess stopped to catch up with his breathing. "He wanted to go up against me real bad. One morning they found him with a bullet in his back. Some of his friends wanted to blame me." He paused again, breathing with difficulty and remembering. "I didn't do it. The sheriff of Como didn't think so either. I was sittin' in his jail when Thorne was found. I still don't know who sent him on to the afterlife."

"Maybe Hal - I'll stick with that name - was kin to him."

"I don't think so. Slim said that neither Hal or his buddy recognized me or knew my name. I didn't see either of them and the third guy rode up after I was out of it."

"Yeah. The third man was Alexander Owen. They should have hung him instead of locking up at Leavenworth. When he broke out, he took a couple of guards with him, then killed them when he didn't need them anymore. Shot them in the stomach and left them to die. Apparently, all three of them were in the Dakotas before Owen got caught."

Suddenly Jess gasped, and he turned his head into the pillow so he wouldn't cry out. His right hand was digging into his chest.

"For God's sake, Jess!" Mort jumped up and hovered over him. "What's the matter?"

Jess couldn't answer. He started coughing, his fingers digging deeper into the bandage, as he fought desperately to breathe. Finally, the wave of pain eased enough so he could take a breath. When he was able to turn back toward Mort, the sheriff was shocked by the pain ravaged devastation he saw on his friend's face.

"You...better get...Slim," Jess managed to say.

"Sure thing, Jess. You hold on. I'll send him right in."

Corey met Slim coming in the living room door. "Jess needs you," he said. "You better hurry."

Slim pushed past Mort and got to Jess just as another coughing fit started. He pulled his partner up and held him as his body was racked with choking, gagging coughs. Finally, he ejected another blob of bloody mucus. When it was over, Jess lay bent double on Slim's lap, too weak to lift his head. Slim let him lie there for a minute or two to regain strength, then he gently put his hand under Jess' head and lifted him to hold him against his chest.

"Slim?" Jess asked him softly as if to make sure his partner was nearby.

"Don't talk now!" Slim ordered. "Just take it easy, or it'll start up again."

"It hurts so bad…" Jess moaned, still digging his fingers into his bandage.

"I'm going to get you some laudanum."

Jess nodded almost imperceptibly and pressed closer to Slim trying to hide from the pain that was crushing him. Supporting Jess with one arm, Slim fixed the laudanum with the other. He helped him drink it, then held him until he began to relax.

"Slim?" Jess asked again as he fell into a drowse where the pain, and his partner, were only dimly perceived.

Slim brushed the hair away from Jess' sweaty forehead. "I'm right here, partner. Just take it easy."

"Why...is this...happenin'? I thought...it was...gone...but it ain't...never...going away."

"You're worrying too much - and expecting too much too soon. Just try to get some sleep. When you wake up, you'll feel better."

Jess tried to take a deeper breath but stopped when it made his chest hurt worse. "I...can't breathe...right. I think...it's...it's... goin' to...kill...me."

"No, it's not! You got a lot more living to do. Now stop talking and get some sleep."

He brushed Jess' forehead again and let his hand rest there for a minute, cradling Jess against his chest and holding on to him until he fell into a deep laudanum induced sleep. Then he eased him down onto the pile of pillows on the bed and checked the bandage to make sure that there was no bleeding and that the wound had not broken open again. It hadn't. Slim pulled the covers over his partner and sat looking at him for a moment, deeply worried. He'd thought Jess was getting better, too. Knowing there was nothing more he could do at the moment, Slim got up slowly and left the room with a heavy heart.

At the living room table, both Mort and Daisy anxiously looked up when he came out of the bedroom.

"How is he, Slim?" Daisy asked, looking at the stained towel he carried in his hand.

Slim didn't answer, but his face told everything. He strode angrily into the kitchen, yanked opened the oven door, threw the towel onto the coals, then jabbed it with the black iron poker until it burst into flames. When slammed the oven door shut, he seemed to have reached some internal limit. He grabbed the towel rack near the window so hard he almost cracked it.

"What has Jess done!" he yelled, throwing his head back toward the ceiling. "Why can't you leave him peace? Why him!" His voice was shaking and he was breathing hard. "Why him?" he yelled again. Then, he bowed his head, his hands still gripping the wooden towel rod, and he prayed brokenly, "Please!" he begged. "Please, let him be. Please, Lord! Give him some peace."

For a few seconds, Slim stood still in silent prayer before his taut shoulders began to relax. He was frightened by how overwhelmed he felt. He wiped his face and eyes with both hands and took some deep breaths to pull himself together. He turned to find Daisy standing behind him, compassion on her face, her hands held tightly in front of her to keep herself from reaching out and touching him.

When Slim saw her, he walked over and hugged her. She hugged him back, her small body trying to encompass the big man as much as she could. "I'm sorry, Daisy," he said.

"It's alright, Slim," she said. "It's alright. Everything is going to be alright. Come on now and sit down. I'll get you some coffee."

As she reached for the coffee pot, Slim walked back into the living room and sat down by Mort at the table.

"Sorry, Mort. That was the second attack he's had today," he said, trying to explain his outburst. He scrubbed his face with his hands. "I'm afraid he won't live through the next one."

Mort grabbed his arm with one of his work hardened hands. "You're doing the best that you can, Slim. That's all you can do."

Slim nodded and took another deep breath, calming himself down. "Did anything new turn up while you were gone?" he asked.

Mort repeated the information his deputy received from Dakota Territory about the three outlaws and Jess' information about Adam Thorne in Texas.

When he was done, Daisy asked the same question everyone was asking. "Could this Hal or Gregory Thorne have anything to do with the Adam Thorne Jess knew?"

"Jess said no, but I'm going to look into it."

"If there's some connection, there would be at least a reason for Jess being shot."

"You're right, Miss Daisy. But the Hal known in the Dakotas didn't have to have a reason to shoot somebody."

"They're three of a kind, alright," Slim said. "After what Owen did to the guards at Leavenworth, nothing would surprise me."

"Yeah," the sheriff said heavily. "One of those guards was married with three children."

"How terrible!" Daisy exclaimed.

"It is," Corey said, shaking his head, "but what they did here is the worst for me. I can't quit thinking about it."

"You told me to stop doing that," Slim said.

"That was before I knew what was behind that door." Mort pointed to the bedroom. "Jess is my friend. That makes a difference."

"Tell me about it," Slim said wearily. "He's a brother to me. And more." He ran his hands through his hair. "He's a part of me. This ranch would've gone under if hadn't stayed to help me."

"You gave him a home," Mort said.

"I guess we did that for each other," Slim replied.

Mort sat his coffee cup down on the table and stood up. "I better be getting back," he said. "Thank you, Miss Daisy, for the coffee and the company."

Slim walked outside with him. "The westbound stage will be here soon," he said, stretching his back and looking down the road toward Cheyenne.

"Slim..." Mort stood by the hitching post with his horse's reins hanging loosely in his hand. "I didn't want to ask in front of Daisy, but….does Jess know how things stand?"

"Nobody knows better than Jess, probably not even Doc Higgins."

"He looks bad. I'm afraid for him…"

"We all are, especially Jess - not for his own sake, but for Mike. That boy is the reason he's still alive."

"I pray to God he makes it." Mort got cumbersomely into the saddle. "Tell him goodbye for me and that I wish him well. I'll be back as soon as I can. Hopefully, he'll be better by then."

"I tell him, Mort."

Mort raised his hand in farewell and rode away. For a moment, Slim stood watching him go; then he walked over to the corral to get the team ready for the noon stage.

END OF CHAPTER 14


	15. Chapter 15

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 15

At school that morning, it was hard for Mike to hold on to the enthusiasm he'd felt when he left home. The memory of what happened four weeks ago followed him like his own little shadow.

He knew Jess was still very sick, maybe so ill his life was in danger. Mike was pretty sure no one was telling him how bad it really was because they didn't want him to worry.

He was glad when one o'clock came and Miss Finch dismissed class for the day and he could let Browny carry him back toward the ranch. Home at last, he trotted the horse up to the barn where he fed, watered and brushed him down. He talked to Slim the whole time, telling him about what happened at school. When he was finished, he ran across the yard into the house. There was no one in the living room but a few dishes had already been placed on the dinner table. Mike heard Daisy rattling pots and pans in the kitchen.

"Mike? Is that you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, come tell me about your day! Then you can wash your hands and finish setting the table. We're almost ready to eat."

"O.K.," he replied, but he had other things on his mind. Instead of going into the kitchen, he tiptoed toward Jess' room. Daisy caught him in the act.

"Mike! That's the wrong way! The kitchen is over here!"

"I...I was just going to put my books down on the steps."

"I think you were deceiving me!"

"I...just a little...I..."

"There's no such thing as a little deception!" she said sternly. "Either you're honest or you're not!"

"I'm sorry, Aunt Daisy! I just wanted to put my books down and peek in at Jess. I wouldn't have bothered him - honest!"

"When you were outside, didn't Slim tell you were not allowed to go see him?"

"He said Jess was asleep..." He looked down at his toes, deciding to confess. "Yeah," he told me not to. I'm sorry."

"Alright, Mike." She put her arm around his shoulder and steered him toward the kitchen. "I know how much you want to see Jess but…"

"He's not doing good, is he?" he said, tilting his head to look up at her.

"He's no worse than usual." In the kitchen, she gave him a gentle push toward the sink so he could wash his hands. "He's just sleeping now. That helps him more than medicine. It doesn't mean something bad is happening."

While Mike finished setting the table, Daisy took a fresh pitcher of water to Jess' room and stayed to straighten it up a little. Mike couldn't resist. He put down the knives and forks, came to the bedroom door and leaned against the frame, staring with longing at his sleeping foster father. Jess looker worse now than he had in days. The need to feel close to him was overwhelming but making a great effort, Mike stayed where he was for a moment, then went back to the table to finish his job.

When Daisy came out of the room, he looked up from his task and said, "Jess is OK, isn't he?"

"He's alright. He's still asleep."

Mike followed her back to the kitchen.

"He's hurting a lot!" he said, his voice rising with anxiety. "I know he is!"

"No, Mike," Daisy said calmly. "Jess is in no pain right now."

"Is...is he unconscious again?"

"He's only sleeping. Slim gave him some laudanum. You know about that. It takes the pain away and lets him sleep. You don't need to worry."

Mike was having a hard time believing this. "He looks really sick to me," he muttered.

"Well, you're right," she said, deciding to be straightforward with him. "He is very sick - and it will take a long time for him to get well again. You're going to have to accept that. We all are. We will all need to have a lot of patience, more than we ever thought we had."

Mike scuffled his feet, watching her slice the bread for lunch. "I'll try but...I don't think I can. It's funny, Aunt Daisy. Sometimes I don't worry at all - but then - I get real scared. I'm afraid he's going to die."

She stopped what she was doing and came to stand near him, giving him her full attention. "I know, Mike," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder, "I get scared, too - but I don't think Jess will die. I pray that he won't."

"The doctor said he would! I heard him!"

"Even doctors can be mistaken. What do you think Jess would say if he knew you worry so much?"

"He knows I do! He's worried, too. I know it. He said he couldn't promise me…" Suddenly, he threw himself against her, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging her tightly. "He's got to get well, again, Aunt Daisy! I love him so much. Why does it hurt so much when you love somebody?"

She held him close and stroked his blond head. "Sometimes the pain we feel when we're afraid we might lose somebody shows us how much we love them."

He sniffled, not sure he understood. Daisy hadn't expected him to. She took him by the shoulders and smiled down at him. "Now we need to get lunch on the table, or we'll all go hungry! And you haven't told me how school was today! Was Miss Finch glad to see you?"

"Yeah…" He backed away from her and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Everybody was. Danny Courtney wanted to come home with me, but I told him Jess was sick. I really didn't want anybody else around anyway."

"I think you did the right thing." she said, going to stove finish the stew.

"He only wanted to come out here to get away from his father. He beat him up again last night."

"I'm very much afraid Mr. Courtney drinks too much whiskey." Daisy gave the stew an extra hard swipe of her spoon. "That makes him mean. I feel very sorry for Danny."

"Do you know what he said? Danny, I mean."

Daisy turned to look at him. Something in his tone of voice caught her put her on alert. "What?" she asked, looking at him intently.

"Well, he said that he wished something bad like what happened to Jess would happen to his father. I told him was crazy! Why would he say something like that?"

"I think Danny's father has caused him a great deal of suffering," she said, carefully. "Not just by beating him senseless, but in here…" she tapped her heart. "It's not right, but I think that must be why he said that."

Mike thought about for a minute. "It's too bad all fathers aren't like Jess."

"Most fathers don't behave like Danny's father - thank goodness!" she said, going back to her work. "Unfortunately, Mr. Courtney is the worst kind of father."

"I feel sorry for Danny, too. I think his home is as bad as that orphanage I was in. It hurts so much when nobody loves you. It's even worse if there's nobody for you to love either, even a little bit."

Daisy was surprised that Mike had come to this understanding. Even many adults never recognized that loving and being loved were basic human needs.

Before she could think of an appropriate response, Mike said, "You know, I'm kind of glad I don't have any parents. I couldn't love a real father as much as I love Jess. Real fathers are different."

Now Daisy knew what to say. "Oh, I don't think that's right, Mike. I think it's the people themselves that are different."

"But it would be better if all of them were good. Then they wouldn't want to hurt other people the way Mr. Courtney hurts Danny or...or…the way that man...hurt Jess."

Daisy looked at him thoughtfully. "You know what?" she said. "You can talk to me like an adult...," her expression lightened and she teased, "...even if you behave like a rascal sometimes!"

Mike looked down, half pleased, half embarrassed. "Aww, that's because I'm a real small adult! I still got to grow a lot!" he exclaimed, pleasure winning out as he swept his hands high over his head.

"Oh, you!" Daisy laughed. "Come on now! It's time to eat! You run get Slim, and I'll put the food on the table."

During the afternoon, Slim kept Mike busy outside, but that evening it took all of Daisy's powers of persuasion to get the boy into bed without being allowed to see Jess again. In the end, she had to agree to let him have a quick look at his foster father before he finally dragged himself reluctantly off to his room.

Before she went to bed herself, she went downstairs to see if Slim wanted a cup of coffee or something to eat. She didn't find him in his study where he'd gone after dinner. The room was dark, the desk neat. She checked to see if he was with Jess but he wasn't. Jess had thrown his covers while he was asleep. Daisy walked quietly over to him, felt his forehead for fever and pulled the quilt over him again. Jess muttered something in this sleep, turned his head and lay still again.

She left the room relieved that Jess had found some peace after the morning's two terrible attacks, even if his rest was laudanum induced. Back in the living room, she threw her shawl around her shoulders and opened the front door, still looking for Slim. He was on the porch, standing near one of the posts, staring into the darkness.

"Slim, it's too cold for you to stand out here in your shirt sleeves!"

"I'm not cold. I just wanted to catch some fresh air."

"When you've been out in the fresh air all day?" she teased. When he didn't respond, she stepped over to him and gently touched his shoulder. "You know, if you'd like to talk about anything, I'd like to listen."

"Who says I need to talk about anything?"

"Oh, no one." She smiled encouragingly at him. "It was just a thought I had. What a nice evening it is! Do you mind if I sit out here with you for a while?"

He acted as if he hadn't heard her. Pulling her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders, she sat down on a bench next to the door and watched him. He seemed to have forgotten her presence. He began rubbing on a particular spot on the post, the same spot where he had repeatedly tried, with no success, to remove the blood that splattered on it when Jess was shot and had been slammed against it.

Daisy watched until she couldn't bear it any longer. She got up, took a few steps to stand at his side and laid her hand on his back. "Slim," she said softly, but he moved away from her touch. "Please, Slim," she repeated. "Let me help!"

"Nobody can help," he said. "It's too late. It's four weeks too late."

"It's never too late."

"It is now!" He pushed away from the post and from her and sat down heavily on the bench, clenching his hands between his knees and hanging his head. "Sorry, Daisy," he said without looking at her. "I didn't mean to jump down your throat like that."

"It's alright," she said. "You've been under too much strain." The light from the house fell with a warm glow on her kind face. "May I join you or would you rather I go?"

"No. I'd like you to stay. I need to talk about things before I blow my top again."

"You can't forget it, can you?" she said, going straight to the heart of the matter as she sat down beside him.

"How can I? Every time I see Jess..."

Daisy was quiet. She had an idea of how hard this was for him. Finally, she said, "It's not the shooting itself, is it? It's something else, I think."

Slim kneaded his hands and ducked his head lower, then taking a deep breath, he nodded. "Yeah, you're right." Still slumped over, he looked up at her, his forehead wrinkled with the pain he was feeling. "I should have done something - anything. I should have stopped it from happening."

"Oh, Slim, you must quit tormenting yourself with guilt! It wasn't your fault!"

"I let it happen. I waited too long. If I had acted even a couple of seconds sooner, Jess would have had a chance. I just stood there waiting. I can't forget it. I should have charged into Ron and taken the bullet myself. Jess would have."

"Even if you'd done that, there was another man at the window - and he was determined to kill somebody. Don't forget he already had Jess in his sites and would have shot him anyway. And then he would have swung that gun on me."

"But site on that Winchester was off. If I'd warned him earlier, he might only have been nicked in the shoulder - or he might not have been hit at all."

"You didn't know the gun wasn't working properly."

"No, but I know it now. I keep going over it - and over it. I should have done something instead of just standing there!"

"What you did was absolutely correct. You weren't thinking about yourself. You were trying to save my life. I know that - and I have to live with that, too. It was an impossible situation. And you did warn Jess. I believe if it had Jess instead of you, he would have done the same thing."

"I don't believe it. Everybody's trying to tell me the same thing, but it was _my_ responsibility to do something. I'll live with that the rest of my life. And the worst part is, I can't even talk with Jess about it anymore. He gets too upset."

"Don't you know why?"

"I…." He stopped, suddenly aware of the meaning of Daisy's words. He dropped his head again, leaning forward on his elbows and clasping his hands. "I don't know what's right and what's not, Daisy! Sometimes I wish I was like Jess. He can't remember anything - at least that's what he says."

Daisy was taken back. "He has no reason to do deceive us!" she exclaimed.

"No, but...maybe he's fooling himself. Maybe he doesn't want to remember."

"I don't believe that. A lapse of memory is not at all unusual after a severe shock."

"I keep getting the feeling he knows more than he's letting on. Maybe pushing things down makes it easier for him."

"No! You must understand Jess really doesn't remember anything! He may seem to know more than he does because he can imagine what happened when you describe it to him. After all, it wasn't the first time Jess has been shot. And he was unconscious for two weeks and in delirium. He was close to dying! He lost his sense of taste, a sure sign the end is near. In no way is Jess' loss of memory something he's doing deliberately!"

"Sometimes I forget you were a nurse," Slim said ruefully.

"Unfortunately, I gained a lot of experience during the war. The loss of memory is not a bad thing sometimes. I'm glad Jess doesn't remember. It spares him the pain of reliving such a terrible thing. You should be glad about that, too, instead of wondering what he does or doesn't know.'

"Whether he remembers or not, I do." As he spoke he was rubbing the bullet he always kept in his pocket to make sure he never forgot.

Daisy saw it. "Slim," she said, a sharp tone to her voice, "you should throw that thing away!"

"There's no way I'll do that as long as Jess is in there fighting death with every breath he takes! I don't want to forget for a minute who put him there!" he said, on the edge of anger.

"You said a little while ago you wanted to forget! Which is it? You can't remember and forget at the same time!"

"I know it! I feel like a horse being kicked to run and being reined in at the same time! I'm scared to think about the future, and I can't forget the past!"

"Maybe," Daisy said, holding her ground, "you should pay more attention to the present!"

"But the present is made up of the past and the future!"

"Certainly it is - but our _focus_ must be on the present. Life takes place now, nowhere else."

Slim gave her a wry glance. "Why're you always right?"

"I don't know that I am." She shrugged her shoulders and pulled her shawl tighter. "I just try to see things as they are."

"I didn't know you had such a strong philosophical bent," he said, smiling a little.

"Nonsense! It's only common sense! I hope I have some of that but sometimes I'm not so sure."

"Well, you ought to be!" Slim wrapped his arm around her and hugged her. He felt better. "Thanks," he said.

"For what?"

"For everything. For putting up with me tonight."

"I'm not sure I helped very much."

"You tried. Talking things out might not solve the problem - but it helps."

After a moment, Daisy exclaimed, "Do you know what time it is?"

"Late enough I'm afraid." He took his arm from around her shoulder and helped her stand up. "Sorry, Daisy. I didn't mean to keep you out here so long."

"There's no need to apologize! I'm glad we talked things over. You should go to bed now," she said, touching his chest lovingly. "You look very tired."

"I'll be in a minute."

"Good night, Slim and don't brood about things anymore tonight."

"I'll try not to."

Daisy saw through the smile he gave her. The sadness in his eyes betrayed his true feelings the same way Jess' eyes always did. Neither one of them could fool her. Daisy was once reminded again how alike the two men were even though they were very different from each other in other ways.

END OF CHAPTER 15


	16. Chapter 16

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 16

The next day, late in the morning, Doc Higgins came by for a routine visit. After examining Jess, he reported that he found nothing new in his condition - he was still far from well but the two coughing spells yesterday didn't signify anything new to worry about. Even so, Slim had a feeling Higgins wasn't telling him everything. The doctor didn't say anything specific but he didn't look very happy when he left.

Jess spent the next several days sleeping or in a light doze. Slim avoided starting any conversation with him that could upset him, and Mike was rarely allowed to go in for a visit. He didn't like it, but he seemed to understand why it was necessary for Jess to be undisturbed.

Against all expectations, Jess began to regain his strength after the extended rest. The terrible racking cough remained and with it came recurrent pain that cast a shadow over the future, but Jess and the rest of the family tried not to dwell too much on what might be facing him. Instead, Daisy spoiled him with good food and tireless care, and Slim and Mike did everything they could for him, more than he was comfortable with sometimes, especially as he started to feel a little stronger over the next couple of weeks. He wasn't used to people making a fuss over him.

Two weeks to the day after his last visit, Mort Corey came back to see him. He arrived just before lunch.

He found Jess propped up in bed on a mound of pillows. The bed had been moved close to an open window where a slight breeze was filling the room with mild, autumn scented air. The day was so warm it was hard to remember that, according to the calendar, it was mid-October. Fall had come late that year, holding off the colder weather longer than usual.

Jess was propped up in bed with one knee bent and a book propped on his thigh. He was so engrossed in what he was reading that he didn't notice Mort, who stood at the bedroom door watching him for a minute before knocking loudly to announce his presence.

"Howdy, Jess!" he called, greatly pleased to see him looking better than he'd left him a couple of weeks ago. "You got some time for an old broke down sheriff?"

"Mort!" Jess was delighted to see him. "Get on in here and sit down!"

"Slim told me you were in here loafing. I'm glad to see you, boy." They shook hands, grinning at each other, then Mort said, "And before I forget, I'm supposed to bring you greetings and best wishes from the mayor, the city council, Gary Morgan and most of the citizens of Laramie."

"Well, thanks! I didn't know that many people were interested in me."

"I don't know why, but they like you!"

"They didn't when I first got here - me or my reputation."

"That was a long time ago. You're an upstanding citizen, now! You saved their bacon more than once and they know it - and they're worried about you."

"Since you come all this way to tell me that, why don't you pull up a chair and sit down? Have you heard from Como?"

"How did you know I sent a telegram there?"

"I know you. You'd be bound to go lookin'. What did you find out?"

Mort fumbled around in his vest pocket, pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper and handed it to Jess.

"I just got a reply this morning. The line to Amarillo's been down for nearly two weeks and nothing could get through. They sent something else by mail. Hang on a minute while I go get it." He left briefly to retrieve an envelope from the jacket he'd hung on the rack in the living room. When he came back, he threw the thick manila packet on the bed and sat back down.

Jess tore the envelope open. He'd gotten pretty good using just one hand. He'd had to. Doc Higgins insisted on a bandage that wrapped completely around his body, immobilizing the left arm and shoulder so the wound wouldn't break open again.

Jess scanned over the material, then read aloud, "Floyd Brannigan, Sheriff of Como, Hopkins County, Texas."

"You know him?" Mort asked.

"If it's the same Floyd Brannigan I do. He was a deputy, a young kid, about my age. What's was the sheriff's name?" He scratched his ear, thinking. "Duncan! They always treated me OK when I spend some time with 'em. I wonder what happened to him."

"He's retired. Floyd wrote all about it. Seems to have a lot of time on his hands."

"He always did a good job. I liked him but I couldn't have a lawman as a friend back then. He even tried to get me hire on his deputy so he wouldn't have to hang me. I decided it was time get out of there. I hired on with the next herd going north." Jess looked at the letter in his hand. It was six pages long and written in a neat, uniform hand. "What does he say?"

"You better read it for yourself."

"He should've been a reporter instead of a lawman," Jess complained as looked at the lengthy letter but he settled down to read it. When he was finished, he said, "There's nothin' here we can use - no connection between Hal and Gregory Thorne.

"I don't know, Jess. Brannigan didn't find anything, but somewhere in here…," he pointed to his gut, "I got this feeling there won't go away. I'd like to believe they're connected some way."

"How come?"

"Maybe I'd feel better if I could explain why he shot you."

"You I think I'd be better off than I am now?" Jess said sarcastically.

"No, of course not, but if I had something to go on, I probably wouldn't feel as helpless as I do now. I don't know how to tackle this thing to stop the rampage…. I feel like I'm chasing a shadow, something that's not human."

"That's not the all of it. What's really botherin' you is that you're sittin' at a desk when you'd rather be out there chasin' that ghost of yours, hopin' you'll get lucky and find him. You're feelin' guilty because you didn't get him the first time."

"Why would you say that?" Mort snapped. Jess had hit a nerve.

"Because I'm your friend and you can't find the guy who shot me. But I got no complaint about that. You do a good job keepin' the law around here. And Laramie needs you in town, not off somewhere on a wild goose chase."

"Maybe so but I don't like how things stand right now."

"Cut it out, Mort. The only thing you'd get from chasin' around after that gang is saddle sores. The last storm washed away any tracks that were still there. You can call out the cavalry again when the gang shows up somewhere."

"I hope nobody else gets hurts when they do, especially a friend of mine."

"I don't think there's anything you can do to stop 'em."

"I've got to do something!"

"Leave it alone, Mort!" For Jess, the guilt that was tormenting the sheriff felt all too familiar. Slim was dealing with it, too, only it was worse for him - and it was hard on Jess to see both of them struggling with it. "We can't keep goin' over this all over again," he said, a low growl in his voice.

"So what'll I do now?" Mort said, almost to himself, his forehead wrinkled with worry and fatigue.

"I know it's hard to sit around and wait," Jess said, "but as I see it there's nothin' else you can do. Just do what you think is right. You're too good a lawman to do anything else."

Mort didn't say anything. He lifted an eyebrow and sighed. This much was certain: he was running around in circles. He was no closer to solving the crime than he'd been six weeks ago except that Jess was better, and they knew he two Thornes had nothing to do with each other.

During the next few days, Jess enjoyed the open window and the unseasonably warm air. His recovery was progressing, but two major problems remained: the terrible cough that came out of the blue, and the devastating pain that rolled over him like an avalanche and felt like arrows stabbing into his chest. At times, the agony was so severe it brought tears to his eyes. These attacks hadn't changed in intensity but the times between times grew a little longer.

Jess tried to convince himself that the attacks seemed so bad because they stood in clear contrast to the times between them when he felt better, but when he saw the bloody sputum that he coughed up on the towel, he felt like he was just kidding himself. Then, sharp-edged doubts resurfaced that he wouldn't live very long.

Even if he did manage to survive, he was afraid that he would never be healthy enough again to do the hard physical work he loved. He fought against it with all the considerable will power he had, knowing there was real danger of being sucked into a dark hole of despair. In that darkness, life was no longer worth living and the temptation to take things into his own hands - and end his existence on his own terms - would be strong. But Jess was a fighter - and he had a reason to fight: Mike.

For Mike, it didn't matter how Jess survived, just that he did. He didn't care if his foster father couldn't work in the future or if he was physically impaired in some way. What was important was Jess' continued presence, nothing else.

Jess hated being confined to bed, especially as his recovery continued. He'd always suspected a bullet might end his life but he'd never really thought about other possibilities. He knew ranch work was dangerous. There was always a risk of breaking a bone or being caught in a stampede or gored by a bull, but he was young and strong and had decided a long time ago to stop being afraid of anything. Lightning quick responses and a willingness to face down danger were how he'd survived whatever life had thrown at him. He'd never really considered being crippled or permanently impaired. Now he did.

Despite his fears and his restlessness, he discovered that forced inactivity had some benefits. He had time to think about things, even to consider the future. If he lived, even if there were no lasting physical problems, he would get older. Taming wild mustangs and riding bucking broncos wouldn't be something he could do, or even want to do. And should he be risking his life riding shotgun on stages when he had the responsibility of a young child? Different futures and other possibilities played out in his mind as he lay before the window in the warm autumn air.

There was another benefit of Jess' long recovery. He had more time to spend with Mike. Before he got shot, Jess worked from sunup to sundown and was often away on ranch or relay station business. But now he had all the time in the world to spend with the boy, listening to his concerns and problems, laughing with him and even studying with him.

Daisy tutored them both. She knew Jess hadn't had the opportunity to learn more than the basics because of childhood hardships, but she also knew he had a razor sharp intelligence and didn't have to hear or read something more than once to understand and remember it. She took pleasure in watching him and Mike study together and often wondered who taught who.

On one of his visits, Doc Higgins finally gave the go ahead for Jess to start exercises that would strengthen muscles weakened by inactivity. Knowing his patient, the doctor sternly ordered Jess not to overdo, warning that the wound could still tear loose and cause internal bleeding.

As a nurse, Daisy was placed in charge of supervising the exercise program. With infinite patience, she helped him practice the simplest moves first, often massaging his legs and back to stimulate blood flow. After he began to grow stronger, her hardest job was holding him back.

After two weeks, Doc Higgins decided it was better to make a plan for Jess to get out bed before he tried it himself. On one exceptionally warm day, Slim helped him take his first steps outside. Daisy had lined one of the chairs from the living room with pillows and blankets and placed it in a sunny, sheltered spot in the backyard.

That afternoon, Mike came home late from school. He rode Browny into the corral where Slim was taking care of a workhorse with a swollen leg. The boy spoke briefly to the rancher, tended to his own horse, then ran across the yard to the house. He stormed into the living room, went directly to the kitchen and threw his books on the table before he washed his hands at the pump. As he was drying his hands, he realized Daisy wasn't at her usual post near the stove. When he came home late, she always fixed him a sandwich or some leftovers from lunch.

"Aunt Daisy!" he shouted running into the living room looking for her.

"I'm in here, Mike!" she called from the small bedroom where Jess had been staying.

When Mike walked into the room, he saw to his horror that the bed was empty. Even the mattress was gone. Unbeknownst to him, Daisy had taken it outside to beat the dust off and air it out.

'Where...where is Jess?" Mike stammered, his eyes wide open in fright.

"It's alright!" Daisy reassured him. "Jess hasn't run away."

"Run away?" the boy repeated, still confused and scared.

"That's a joke, Mike!" she said, half amused, half concerned for the boy. "He's out in the backyard."

"You mean...you mean... he got up?"

"Well, how else would he have gotten into the backyard?"

"That's... that's great!" His initial horror had instantaneously transformed into joy. "Yippee! I got to go see him!" he shouted.

"Wait just a minute!" Daisy said to stop his headlong dash out of the door. "You need to be a little quieter when you go outside. Jess may be sleeping. Please don't wake him. He's still got a long way to go, and he needs his rest."

"I'll be real quiet!" Mike promised. He was radiant, his brown eyes glowing. He ran to the back door, fumbled with the knob and finally opened it with a jerk. "Jess?" he called in a soft voice, looking around for him.

He saw Jess near the wall of the house that was warmed by the afternoon sun. He was covered by a colorful Navajo blanket and had apparently fallen asleep while reading the newspaper. His dark head was turned to the side, and he was breathing evenly and easily.

Mike stood quietly at the door for fear of waking him. Relief washed over him as he studied Jess' sleeping face. His foster father was still very thin and pale, but his cheeks were not so sunken and most of all, he was relaxed and free of pain. The boy watched him silently, almost reverently. A wonderful sense of optimism filled him. He hadn't felt so happy in a long time. Everything was going to be alright now. He was about to turn to go back inside when he heard Jess softly call his name. Mike ran to him.

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he said, looking guilty. "I'm sorry."

"It's OK." Jess smiled at him. "I think I just dozed off for a minute. How come you're already back from school? It's not that late is it?" Since his injury, he'd had trouble keeping up with what day it was, much less what time it was. He suspected ordinary awareness of time wouldn't return until things got back to normal.

Mike propped himself up on the armrest of the chair and started talking as if he hadn't seen Jess for weeks. He told him everything that went on at school that day, but he was more enthusiastic when he described what was going on with Browny's training.

"Just wait 'til you see what all I've taught Browny!" the boy boasted. "It's fun to teach him how to do things. He likes it, too!"

"A good horse always wants to learn somethin' new. I'm glad you're trainin' him and not just gallopin' around. I used to wonder who was boss, you or Browny."

"Well…" Mike said meekly, wrinkling his nose, "sometimes he still won't mind me."

"You're a good rider, but Browny's a strong-willed horse. It wouldn't take much for Browny to get away from you. One day you might be ridin' him home from school and he'd come back alone and you'd be lyin' in a ditch somewhere. I don't want'a be worryin' about that."

Mike decided he'd better confess. "I been letting him jump some things. He's good at it!"

Jess shot a knowing glance at the boy. "Little stuff, I hope. Browny's got good bones, and if he's willin' to jump you can try it. But go slow and don't force him. A ridin' horse would rather walk around something ten times than jumpin' it once."

"I don't have to force Browny!" Mike said proudly.

"Yeah?" Jess said, his blue eyes focusing more intently on the boy.

"I...I guess I already tried a fence once time."

"That's not a good idea. You and Browny could both get hurt."

"But it was an emergency!" Mike was so serious it surprised Jess. "It was the fence at school," he explained.

At last, Mike decided it was the right time to tell Jess what had happened the day he'd run away from Miss Finch instead of staying for detention eight weeks ago. Jess listened attentively.

When Mike came to the end of his story - after making sure Jess knew he'd apologized to Miss Finch - he asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Jess ruffled the boy's hair. "No, Tiger, I'm not mad. I know strictly speakin', what you did wasn't right. But, to tell you the truth, I probably would've done the same thing myself"

"Really?" Mike asked wide-eyed.

"Sure. There're times you got to do what you think is right even if other folks think it's wrong." He stopped, considering what else he should say. "Just think it over real careful before you do anything like that again. OK, partner?" he added to give some hint of parental disapproval.

"I promise!" Glad this confession over with, Mike asked, "You want to come out to the corral and watch me work with Browny?"

"Nah, not today. I got to take things slow. If I move around too much, I'll start hurtin' again."

"Do you hurt bad?"

"Sometimes," Jess admitted.

"Well, I wish you didn't!" Mike said, frowning.

"Don't worry about it, Tiger!" Jess gave him a quick one arm hug. "I'm fine!"

Mike looked at the ground and scuffed one foot. "You know what?" he said, hesitantly, "Sometimes I get scared that man that shot you will come back again."

"Why should he?"

"I don't know." Mike shrugged. "Maybe he knows you're still alive and doesn't like it."

"I don't think so. He didn't come here for me in the first place. I don't think it'll ever happen again."

"Well, I'm not going to stop being scared until Sheriff Corey catches him!"

Jess' arm tightened around the boy's waist again. "The sheriff'll get him soon. And that gang's a long way from here. You got other things to be thinkin' about than that bunch of no goods – like, what're you goin' to teach Browny to do next?"

As Mike happily told Jess about his plans for his pony, Jess hoped what he'd told Mike about the outlaws was true. At any rate, he didn't want to bring back bad memories by talking too much about them - for Mike or for himself.

End of Chapter 16

End of Part One


	17. Chapter 17

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

PART TWO

CHAPTER 17

One morning the following week, shortly before the stage came, Slim came in from the barn and found his partner standing on the porch by the post where he'd been shot. Completely lost in thought, Jess was scratching the blood stained spot with the nail of his thumb. He was scowling and looking from the blood stains on the wooden planks of the porch floor to the front door and then to the window. The curtain at the window was new. Daisy had replaced the scorched lace weeks ago.

Slim slapped him on the back. "Howdy, partner. How're you feeling?"

Jess glanced up at him. "I'm fine," he said but his eyes were tired and he was pale.

Slim knew he wasn't fine but he let it go. He followed Jess' gaze to the window. "You remember anything?"

"It was here, wasn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Slim said, looking grim.

"It just kind of came over me…" Jess said and wiped his face with a hand that trembled.

Slim watched him in concern. Jess was rubbing his right shoulder. Underneath the tight bandage his wound must be on fire, a pain the rancher knew radiated out to his shoulder and arm. His face was strained.

"Are you hurting?" Slim asked him directly.

"Not bad." Now he was staring at the door. Still sounding a little dazed, he said, "Mike told me he was afraid that gang would come back and try it again."

"How about you?" Slim asked in his no-nonsense big brother voice. "Are you afraid?"

Jess' face got more pinched, his dark brows crinkling together. "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well, I know." Slim put his hand on Jess' unhurt shoulder. "You and Mike are afraid of the same thing we're all afraid of. I can't stop being afraid. I'm not scared of that gang, but that I'll just stand around and let something bad happen again. I have nightmares about it."

Slim's confession seemed to ease some of Jess' distress, but his hand was still unsteady as he swiped at his forehead. "Yeah, I guess I'm scared, too. Mostly because of Mike."

"I know what you mean. I worry about him, too," Slim said, giving Jess' shoulder a quick squeeze.

Jess nodded and took as deep a breath as he could and let it out. Talking with his partner helped.

The next morning, Daisy was in the kitchen, busy as usual, washing the breakfast dishes. Slim had gone to the office for a few quiet minutes so he could make some entries in the accounting books. In recent weeks, the rancher had put off this kind of work because, with winter coming on, he'd wanted to get as much done outside as he could. Eventually, he'd have to catch up with the books, but for now, he only recorded major items, leaving the rest for colder, darker evenings.

The gunshots disturbed Slim while he was in the middle of adding up a long column of figures. The explosions were close together and were not very far away. He dropped the pen. The ink spurted out and left black splatters across the accounting sheets. For a moment, there was stark horror on Slim's face. The memory of the raid shot like an arrow through his brain.

During all these weeks, he'd been on alert, afraid the gang might come back, but now he was once again taken by surprise. What if it were happening all over again - and above all, where was Jess? Slim hadn't seen him since breakfast. The rancher's face went white, and for a couple of seconds, he sat paralyzed in his seat, listening to the gunfire echoing through the house. Then, he jerked open the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept Jess' Colt. It wasn't there, and neither was the ammunition.

Slim didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Maybe Jess had taken the gun to do some target practice. It didn't have to be the marauders coming back - but it could be some other problem, and Jess was out there alone.

"Damn it, Jess!" he cursed as he slammed the drawer shut and headed for the living room. He nearly ran into Daisy standing outside the door of his office. She'd heard the gunshots, too.

"Slim?" she asked. It was a question and a cry for help at the same time.

"Where's Jess?" Slim asked, taking his gun belt off the rack and strapping it on.

"I don't know! I think he went outside. I haven't seen him since breakfast."

Slim checked the chamber of his Colt and cautiously went to the window to look outside. Nothing was moving in the yard. The shooting had stopped.

"Can you see anything?" Daisy asked.

"There's nobody out there." As soon as finished speaking, the gunshots rang out again, one after another at regular intervals. "That sounds like it's coming from behind the house. It's probably Jess target practicing, but you stay here. I want to make sure."

Slim opened the door and slipped out. By now he was pretty sure it was Jess, but as he rounded the corner of the house, he couldn't ignore the tightness in his gut. He didn't want to be taken off guard again. When he caught sight of Jess on top of the high hill to the east, shooting at rocks on an old wooden fence, relief washed over him. He let his gun slide back in its holster and went to the back door to tell Daisy.

"It's all right!" he shouted into the house. "It's Jess! He's OK!"

"Thank God," Daisy said, coming to the door.

"He's up on the hill. I'm going up there to check things out."

Jess saw him coming but didn't stop to look at him. He calmly took aim and with quick, successive shots knocked all the rocks off the fence. None of the bullets missed their target. After the fourth shot, he lowered the right hand that held the heavy revolver.

"You forgot one!" Slim yelled, and in the next moment his bullet split the fifth rock on the fence and sent two chunks spinning into the air.

"You missed two!" Jess yelled back as his next two shots smashed the two airborne chunks into smithereens. "I fixed it for you!"

"Not bad!" Slim said, coming up to him. He was glad Jess hadn't lost his shooting ability, but he felt a wave of anxiety. He didn't like the grimness of Jess' face.

"I could've been better," Jess said. "Having to cock the hammer with my thumb slows me down."

"With your aim, it doesn't matter. What I want to know is why you're practicing at all?"

Jess avoided Slim's searching gaze, focusing instead on emptying the spent cartridges onto the ground. Then he anchored the Colt in his waistband and filled the gun's chamber with fresh bullets from his belt. He seemed to have a certain serenity about using only one hand. He finally answered Slim's question. "I was bored," he said, snapping the chamber shut and steering the gun back into its holster.

Slim missed the relaxed smoothness of movement that had been Jess' hallmark before his injury, but all he said was, "You scared us with all that gunfire. We didn't know if something bad was happening."

"Sorry. I should've told you. I didn't think about it."

"It's OK." Slim went up to him and slapped him gently on the shoulder. "We'll live. But you're not wasting bullets out of boredom. I know you better than that."

"Maybe I want to prove something."

"Sure. Tell that to somebody else - but not to me."

"I mean it."

"Yeah, and I'm my uncle from Philadelphia."

"I didn't know you had an uncle."

"And I didn't know you had something to prove."

The two men looked intently at each other until Jess ducked his head.

"You're right," he admitted. "I don't know why I'm doin' this myself, except that I want to know I can still control the gun. Hell, I had to learn to walk again."

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

Jess looked up quickly and took a breath, ready to make a sharp denial but changed his mind. "Maybe." He ran his hand through hair, then unconsciously let it fall on the dark walnut handle of his gun. "But I don't know why. If I did, I'd feel a lot better. It's probably because I ain't got enough to do - all this useless lyin' around. And not knowin' what's goin' to happen. The worst of it is that I got a feelin' this ain't over."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you that I can't explain it to myself, much less to you." He stared absently at the fence, then looked at his friend and said, "Sorry, Slim."

Slim was dismayed by the sadness he saw in Jess' eyes. He reached over and put his hand on his partner's shoulder. "I think you're worrying too much."

"No kidding?" Jess said sarcastically.

"Well, I know you don't have a lot to do and that can make a man think too much." His grip on his partner's shoulder tightened. "Believe it or not, I got a good idea of what's going on inside of you. But…" his face lightened a little and a smile flitted around his mouth, "...there's one word I don't hear coming from you again - useless. Say it again and there'll be hell to pay."

Jess' mouth twisted back and forth a few times before he finally glanced up with a bashful grin, looking a little more relaxed. "Now I'm curious. What're you thinkin' about doin'?"

"I'm not saying," Slim teased. "You're still on the injured list."

"In that case, I better keep practicin'. But it might cost us some. We won't be usin' this spot for grazing again because the cows'll be eatin' lead instead of grass." He seemed to have overcome his sadness for the moment at least.

"Well, alright. I'm glad to know you'll be able to defend yourself if something comes up."

"Yeah, if you give me a chance." He stopped instantly, aware of how that might sound to Slim. He looked over at him. "I didn't mean anything by that!"

"You could have."

"No!" Jess shouted at him. "Don't start with that song and dance about what you owe me - how guilty you are! That's the last thing I want to argue about!" Jess said harshly. "You know as well as I do that wasn't the first time somebody used me for target practice. And it was an ambush you couldn't stop!" Realizing he might be overdoing things, he took a breath to calm himself down and said, "Look," he said, "if it makes you feel better, I won't leave the house again without my gun."

The corners of Slim's mouth lifted in a semi-resigned smile. He decided to take the peace pipe his partner was offering. He didn't want to talk about the recurring problem of guilt and failure, either. It upset both of them and routinely ruined any good mood they had.

"Well, OK. I can't watch you all the time."

They grinned at each other.

Slim went back to the house to finish the accounting and Jess collected some more rocks to use as targets before the gunfire started up again.

END OF CHAPTER 17


	18. Chapter 18

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 18

Early in the next week, Jess finally managed to persuade Slim to go away for a few days to repair the fence in the north pasture. Slim knew his partner was serious when Jess threatened to go fix it himself. The only thing Jess wanted Slim to do before he left was to split enough firewood to last until he got back. Otherwise, he wanted to try to do most of the work himself with Mike's help.

Slim was away for over a week. Like Jess said, the fence was in bad shape. Once the snow melted in the spring, the rest of the posts would have to be replaced, but he didn't want to think about that now. When he got back to the ranch, he was relieved to find everything had gone well except another horse had gone lame and would have to be replaced in time for tomorrow morning's stage.

"This is the second one in two weeks," he said irritably, feeling the swollen tendons on the horse's foreleg.

"Yeah, and his ankle's hot, too," Jess said, no less irritated.

"I wonder why."

"Probably the shoe." An inspection of the horse's hooves confirmed Jess' suspicion. "The iron wasn't forged right," he said. "Looks like somebody didn't know what they were doin'."

"And the inner cleats are too high," Slim said. "No wonder the tendons are strained. One thing's for sure. Emerson Pierce didn't shoe this horse at his blacksmith's shop in town. He wouldn't have messed up like this."

"We ought to ask the drivers what they know. This has got to stop, or we'll be spending all our money for the veterinarian and extra shoes."

"I know," Slim said, frowning.

Since Jess couldn't help with the shoeing or the bellows, the work took a long time to complete. Mike had already come home from school by the time Slim nailed on the fourth shoe. The rancher finished filing down the hoof, then Jess gently led the horse around the corral a few times to assess how he was doing.

"You got 'em just right," he said when he brought the big animal back to the barn. "I'll rub his legs down good. Then maybe he won't need bandages."

"I'm thinking the horse isn't the only one that needs to take it easy," Slim said, feeling like he couldn't remind his partner of this often enough.

"Don't worry," came the response from deep in the barn. "I plan on doin' that."

Two days later, the morning stage rolled into the relay station an hour later than normal. The reason for the delay was another lame horse. Lew, the driver, explained that Milford, the owner of the relay station some fifty miles back, was trying to save money and had shoed the horses himself instead of hiring a farrier or making sure he had good iron.

"From what I heard, Kellington gave him the go ahead even though Milford's a greenhorn and don't know what he's doin'," Lew said. "I already had an idea the horse was goin' lame at the Dohannan stop, but Dohannan said he was OK. I don't think he's got any more horse sense than a knot on a log."

"And they all push it off onto us," Slim said, the muscles in his jaw jumping and his chest puffed out, a sure sign he was angry enough to pop a button off his shirt.

"You can't blame Milford too much. It ain't easy out there with the wolves singing you to sleep at night. Besides, I don't think he knows any better."

"That's no excuse. It's got to stop. Taking care of these horses is burning up too much of our time."

"Don't tell me," Lew said with a shrug, climbing back into the driver's seat. "I tried sayin' something to both Milford and Kellington. One told me I didn't know what I was talkin' about and the other 'un told me my job was to drive the stage and keep my mouth shut."

"That sounds like Kellington. Thanks, Lew. Maybe you can make up some lost time."

"Not a bad idea."

Lew cracked his whip and heavy coach rolled off toward Laramie through the early morning mist.

"What did Lew say?" Jess asked Slim when the rancher led the lame horse into the barn.

"That the horses were probably shod at the Milford station."

"He's doin' his farriering? I didn't think he knew how."

"Well, he's doing it. He doesn't have to guarantee his work, and I think he's using cheap iron, trying to make a profit on it."

"I bet Lew had something to say to him."

"He did. Milford said he didn't know what he was talking about."

"How about Kellington? Does he know?"

"Lew told him. Kellington told him to mind his own business and keep the stage running on time."

Jess jabbed at his shoulder with his thumb. "If it weren't for this thing, I'd be laughin' out loud."

"This is no laughing matter. Nobody in the company is taking it seriously. I'm going to Laramie this afternoon to give Kellington a piece of my mind. This has got to stop."

Before Slim could ready to leave, it started raining, and he decided to postpone the trip until the next day. The rain came down in torrents. The dampness seemed to cause Jess' cough to get worse, and it was harder for him to get his breath. He clearly felt all was not well with his body and went to bed for the rest of the afternoon. At supper time, he got up but went back to his room immediately after he'd eaten.

Later that night, it stopped raining and even cleared off a little. A watery moon fell through the ranch house windows, casting a pale, cold light throughout the quiet rooms. Slim was in bed asleep, but he suddenly woke up, startled, and sat up listening. The clouds chasing across the moon made shadows shift eerily around the room. They looked like dancing demons.

He didn't hear anything. He shook his head as if to clear it and with a low growl lay down on his side and pulled the blankets up to his ears. He was just about to fall back to sleep and escape the shadowy realm created by the moon when he woke up again. He sat back up and listened intently. Something was wrong in the house.

Slim threw off the covers and slipped into his pants. The moonlight let him find his way without lighting the lamp. Pulling open a drawer in the bedside table, he took out a revolver. His regular Colt always hung on the rack downstairs but he kept this gun at hand at hand at night.

Outside in the hall, he stopped to listen again. He was sure somebody or something was downstairs. Maybe it was just some mice or some other animal that had sneaked into the kitchen to feast on leftovers from supper, but it could just as well be an armed man. He looked back down the hall to see if there was a light under Jess' or Daisy's door. There wasn't. He thought about waking Jess but decided against it. His partner hadn't felt well today, and by now, Slim was pretty sure the sound that woke him was some rodent knocking something off the counter.

As he went down the stairs, he noticed a light coming out of the kitchen. Even though Jess' room had been dark, Slim thought it was probably him but he needed to be sure. He silently entered the kitchen, his gun held in front of him. Jess was standing at the sink, bare chested.

"I thought it was you," Slim said, relieved.

Jess winced like he'd been caught doing something he didn't want anybody to know about. When he turned around, his face was dripping wet with water that he'd splashed on it from the pump at the sink. He wiped his eyes, then leaned back against the counter as if he were trying to hide how weak he really was.

"Are you goin' to shoot me with that thing?"

Slim looked down at the pistol he was still holding, then stuck it in his waistband. "I thought you might be a drifter- or a mouse. What're you doing down here half-naked? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"I think it's the other way around. Death's out to get me."

"What the hell did you just say? What's wrong with you?" Slim demanded, fear making his voice sharp. He walked over to Jess and grabbed him by his unhurt shoulder. "Are `you sick? You look awful."

Unable to answer, Jess leaned forward, groaning as if he were being crushed under a heavy weight. "I can't stand up," he gritted out.

Slim slipped his arm around him and led him to a chair at the table. "Sit down," he ordered, then brought him a glass of water. "See if you can drink this."

Jess obeyed without comment but only got some of it down. He leaned on the table with his elbow and jammed his fist against his aching chest. "Damn," he said, his whole face crinkled in pain. "It hurts." He tried to breathe but when he did, he made a high pitched wheezing sound. "Sorry," he said, through clenched teeth. "It's almost over."

"What can I do?"

He shook his head. "Nothin'," he gasped. "It's...it's like a cramp." He looked up at last, exhausted, his forehead covered with beads of sweat. "It's gone." He wiped his face with a hand that trembled, his breathing fast and shallow.

"What happened?" Slim asked, his mouth tight.

"I...I woke up." Jess swallowed hard. He felt miserable. "I couldn't breathe… I didn't know what was goin' on. I thought I was goin' … to suffocate. And then the pain... started up again. Every time I think it's gone, it...shows up again."

"Why did you come down here?"

"I...don't know. I felt swimmy headed..." Jess looked perplexed, "...sick... Like I was goin' to throw up."

"Did you?"

"No… I went outside. The cold air might've helped."

"You went outside!"

"Only to the door…"

"You're crazy!" Slim was nearly yelling. "Do you want to…? You act like you're trying to kill yourself! Why don't you just use your gun?" All of his fear and frustration were coming out as anger. "I can't let you out of my sight!"

"How come you're gettin' so riled up? I'm tired of listenin' to you preach!" Jess was getting riled up, too. It felt better than sitting around feeling bad. "You want me to throw up in Daisy's kitchen? Lay off me! You act like I'm about to …" He stopped and scrubbed hard at his face, trying to calm down. "Damn it! I'm goin' to live! At least...I'll...I'll try," he finished lamely, a long way from believing his own words.

Slim's shoulders fell and so did his face, revealing the deep concern beneath his anger. "Sure you will," he said, his voice full of confidence he didn't feel, "but you got to take care of yourself."

Jess let his hand drop. "We better go back upstairs before we wake everybody up. I don't want to bother Daisy or Mike."

Slim got his arm around Jess again and helped him stand up. Jess leaned on him hard. He was almost too weak to walk and with every step, he had to fight a sharp stinging pain that came from deep between his ribs and spread like wildfire throughout his upper body. Slim half carried him up the stairs and got him into bed. Jess lay back groaning as Slim struck a match and lit the kerosene lamp.

"I don't think this weather likes me," Jess gasped, propping up on his right elbow. "As soon as I lie down, I get dizzy again and I can't breathe."

"Hold on. I'll get something to prop you up." Slim went through the connecting door to his room. He brought back a couple of pillows and piled them up behind Jess to raise his upper body.

"Thanks," Jess said faintly, breathing a little easier.

"Hey, partner," Slim said, alarmed by Jess' distant expression, "you look like you're thinking about something you don't like."

"I wonder what's really goin' on," he responded vaguely.

"What do you mean?"

"I just got a feelin'... Slim, there's something wrong with me." When he looked up, his eyes were so full of sadness Slim felt a stab of fear. "I mean in here…" Jess put his hand over his chest. "You know what I mean?"

"I'm not sure. What do you think is wrong?"

"I don't know, but something's not right. This cough I got ain't normal. And the pain. I spit up blood and half the time I feel like I'm suffocatin'. I know I look like a half-dead consumptive. There's something wrong," he repeated. "Whatever it is, I think it's goin' to kill me sooner or later. I'm pretty sure of that."

"You got to stop thinking like that," Slim said, his anxiety growing. "You know, you're not exactly easy on yourself. You were hit hard, Jess….anybody else...if they'd survived...would still be in bed. Here you are doing a full day's work. What's really bothering you is that you can't go at things like you did before. It might not make you feel better but nobody else could have handled it as well as you have."

"You're right - that don't make me feel better. I don't think anything will."

"Cut it out! You can't give up on yourself! Not now. Not after you've fought for so long."

"You wouldn't believe how hard it is sometimes." Jess rubbed his eyes. "But we're not goin' to get anywhere with this tonight. I'm sorry I started it."

Slim took a shaky breath. He didn't like the way this conversation had gone but he knew it was time to stop talking, at least for now. "Well, OK, but I'm going to bring you a new jug of water in case you get thirsty again."

"Let it go, Slim."

"No way. You think I want another surprise tonight? Next time I might shoot you!" Slim said, hiding his worry behind a smile.

"That would solve a lot of problems," Jess said to himself when Slim left the room.

In the kitchen, Slim filled a pitcher from the pump, blew out the lamp and came back upstairs to put the water on Jess' bedside table. When he left the room this time, he quietly closed the door behind him.

Neither Slim or Jess knew that Daisy had overheard part of their conversation. She'd been awakened by noises in the hallway and, knowing something might be wrong, she put on her robe and went out to see if she could help. She saw that the door to Jess' room was open and wondered whether she should go in when she heard Jess' talking about his fear of never getting well again. She didn't intend to listen - she knew this was a house where there were no secrets to be learned by eavesdropping - but the sadness in Jess' voice caught her attention, freezing her in place. His grave words touched her heart so deeply she felt she couldn't make her presence known. Silently, she went back to her room and climbed into bed, but she couldn't go to sleep for a long time. She lay staring at the dark ceiling above her as her eyes slowly filled with tears.

The next morning, Mike went to school as usual, and Jess was still in bed asleep after his exhausting night. Slim and Daisy were alone in the kitchen. Daisy came straight to the point.

"What happened last night?" she asked.

"What're you talking about?' he responded evasively, not wanting to worry her.

"Now don't try to hide anything from me. I woke up and saw the light in Jess' room. He wasn't doing well, was he?"

"Nothing gets by you," Slim said, actually glad for a chance to talk to her about it.

"Did he have a coughing spell?"

"No, he just got dizzy and felt terrible. Maybe something in his blood circulation went crazy. I don't think he can tolerate the wet weather.

"Maybe," Daisy said, but she suspected that the real reason was only secondarily connected to the weather. "Slim...I overheard...what Jess said."

"About what?" Slim asked, still trying to protect her.

"About himself. About his feeling that everything isn't right with him."

"You heard that, too," Slim said with resignation.

"I'm afraid he's right."

Slim stared at her, wondering what to say next. Daisy returned his intent look with one of her own. Finally, Slim lowered his gaze. When he looked back up, there was a wistful sadness in in his eyes.

"If you're right...what do we do next?"

Now it was Daisy who looked away. She was thinking of the times she'd worked with her husband in the hospital during the war. More than ten years had passed since then, but the memory of the suffering and misery of the wounded was still alive for her. She could still see the horrifying images as clearly as the room she was in now. If what she'd learned from that experience held true, there was no future for the man she'd come to love as dearly as her own son.

"I don't know. I really don't," she said at last. "It's something I can't put into words. Can you understand that?"

"You sound like Jess," Slim said unhappily.

"I know. Maybe we're all going a little bit out of our minds. Who knows? In a few weeks or months, we all might be laughing about how silly we've been...or we might be standing…"

"In front of Jess' grave?" Slim said brutally. "That's what you were about to say, wasn't it?"

"I only know one thing for sure," Daisy said, her voice filled with quiet strength, "whatever happens, we must not lose hope. My common sense tells me that things might change - but I have this feeling I can't explain… Slim, I can't believe that God brought Jess all this way only to let him die!"

"That doesn't sound like what you were saying a minute ago."

"I know." She nodded gravely. "But this feeling comes from my heart. Faith and hope can only come from the heart when things look hopeless. I _know_ we have to deal with reality, too, but I think we need both."

"I want to believe Jess will be OK...but sometimes I'm not so sure about it," Slim confessed, knowing there was no point in pretending with Daisy.

"I know, "she said with a deep sigh.

"Maybe you better not say anything about this to Jess. I don't think he'd like it if… Well, you get the idea."

"Don't worry about it." She patted his hand with motherly affection. "This will stay between you and me," she said as they both rose to go about the tasks of the day.

Slim wasn't enthusiastic about driving to town to talk to Arthur Kellington, the head of the local branch of the Overland Stage Company about the faulty shoeing and the resulting injuries of the work horses. After last night, he was reluctant to leave Jess but Daisy persuaded him to go, promising she would take good care of him.

Slim hadn't been in Laramie for weeks. The first thing he did was to go to Burke's store to get the supplies on Daisy's grocery list. Then he went to the bank, the most enjoyable stop of the day.

The ranch was debt free and this year they'd made a good profit. He and Jess had decided to use part of it to build a new barn in the spring and to look for a new tract of land to buy so they could enlarge their herd. There was even enough left over for both of them to be able to make a comfortable deposit into each of their personal bank accounts. After eight years of hard work, they'd turned a run-down, heavily indebted property into a prosperous and stable business.

Slim felt good when he left the bank until it occurred to him that Jess might not have the chance to enjoy the rewards of the work they'd done. The rancher would gladly let go of everything if that would make Jess well again but he knew the problem wouldn't be solved that easily.

He would have brooded about this longer if he hadn't needed to go to see Arthur Kellington who had established a lavish office in an adjourning room of the post office. Slim entered by way of the mail room where Horace Reid, the postal clerk, was checking to make sure all the parcels met the packaging requirement of the company.

"Howdy, Horace," Slim said. "Is Kellington in his office?"

"Yep. He's there. He'll be glad to see you, Slim. It's been a long time."

Slim nodded, knocked on Kellington's door and walked into the office without waiting for a response, steeling himself for the unpleasant effect of the manager's plush furniture and extravagant decorations.

Arthur Kellington was a tall, thin man about forty-years old with strawberry red hair and bright, watery blue eyes. He looked like an overgrown adolescent who was pretending to be a businessman. He sat enthroned behind a desk covered with so many pictures and knickknacks that Slim wondered how he ever made room to work on its mahogany surface. When he looked up from his paperwork and saw his visitor, his face began to shine like the polished brass bowl of his tabletop lamp.

"Slim!" he exclaimed, pleased. Jumping up from his high-backed leather chair, he stretched out a well-manicured hand to greet him. "This is a surprise! Sit down! Don't stand around like a stranger."

He gave Slim such a hearty handshake he had to make an effort to keep both feet planted on the floor. Kellington then steered him into an elaborately made chair that seemed too frail to hold the rancher's weight, but when the manager offered him a cigar Slim refused with thanks.

"Well, what about a brandy?" Kellington suggested, heading for his liquor cabinet.

Out of courtesy, Slim accepted the drink even though he wanted to skip the pleasantries and get down to business, thinking he might have already made a mistake by waiting so long to address the issue.

He had nothing in particular against Kellington as long as the relationship stayed on a superficial level. In the past, he'd even had a little respect for this boyish pencil-pusher. The economic progress of the ranch was due in large part to its contract with the stage line but he and Jess no longer needed the relay business as much as they used to. It was a lucrative sideline that came with a lot of extra work and unpredictable problems. When Jess got better, Slim wanted to talk with him about whether they should renew the contract.

Slim was aware that Jess himself was a big asset to the company. He rode shotgun on the stages and often risked his life without receiving appropriate wages or even gratitude. Not only was Jess' work dangerous but it also kept him away from the ranch for days at a time, mostly in the summer when the pastures and the herds needed his full attention. The more Slim thought about it, the more he wanted to talk over renewing the contract with his partner, but today he hadn't come to talk about the contract. He'd come to complain about the lame horses and shoddy ironwork.

Kellington, however, opened a new topic before Slim got started. "What happened to Jess is terrible," he said. "I was shocked when I read it in the paper. Is that what really happened."

This was the last thing Slim wanted to discuss with Kellington or anybody else, but the townspeople were curious and want to hear about it firsthand. Slim understood it wasn't just curiosity. They were genuinely concerned about Jess and wanted to send their good wishes. It was obvious they appreciated and respected him as a member of the community, not just for the safety his six-shooter provided.

Jess had never attached much importance to his skill with a firearm. When he risked his own neck for someone or for the town it wasn't to prove what great guy he was. He did it because his sense of right and wrong left him no choice. His decisions might not match up with the letter of the law sometimes but they came out of his own understanding of justice and what he owed to the people who mattered to him. And sometimes he did things for the excitement of doing them. Being in motion was pure joy for him.

Slim understood all this but in Kellington's case, the rancher suspected he shamelessly exploited Jess for cost-cutting reasons. The manager regularly eliminated guards in the hopes Jess would step into the gap. Jess would never forgive himself if something bad happened to a driver who was a friend of his for lack of a guard. Kellington counted on that aspect of his character.

Today, though, the manager seemed to have put business aside and was seriously concerned about how Jess was doing. This threw Slim off track a little and made him more willing to talk about what had happened.

"Gary Morgan described what went on as accurately as anybody could," he said. "If you've read the paper you've got the facts."

"But how is Jess now?" Kellington asked.

"Better than he was - but it's going to take a long time before he's well."

"I didn't believe it at first. I thought there must have been some kind of mistake. Then I ran into Morgan after the wanted posters came out. Even when he told me he'd seen Jess and what terrible condition he was in, I thought it was journalistic theatrics. I thought he was exaggerating."

"I don't know what he told you, but whatever it was, he wasn't exaggerating."

"Is Jess that badly wounded?"

Slim nodded grimly, staring past Kellington, remembering what had happened last night. "Yeah," he said. "It's a miracle he's still alive."

"Then I'm doubly glad he survived."

"He's not out of the woods yet. He's up and around most of the time now, but...he's still got some major problems."

"It sounds like you're still worried about him."

"I am." Slim stared at the desk. "The wound did a lot of damage to his lungs. He's still a sick man."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Kellington said sincerely. "I've always liked Jess. He's a good man and he's done a lot for the company. I think it's an outrage that the sheriff hasn't apprehended those men and brought them to justice." He slammed his fist on the desktop, making the photographs jump. "A stagecoach is attacked and a company man shot on his own front door, and the hoodlums who did it are still running around free!" He sounded like he was practicing a speech he planned to make before the city council.

Slim lifted an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Kellington about what happened at the ranch, but then a company stage had been attacked and a company man wounded. Slim knew the manager was active in hot debates at council meetings and could use loud and abusive language when arguing a point. His behavior there was a stark contrast to the self-contained, urbane manner he usually used with Slim. His rage toward Sheriff Corey and his criticism of Corey's ability to do his job left the rancher almost speechless. Slim considered the sheriff the best lawman he'd ever known.

"You can't blame the sheriff, Art," Slim said. "He's done everything he can do to find that gang."

Kellington lifted both hands to ward off Slim's rebuttal. "As God is my witness," he said dramatically, "I didn't mean any criticism of our sheriff. On the contrary, Laramie is lucky to have such a man."

"That's the way I see it."

"I was just wondering where all this lawlessness this brutality, this lack of morals is leading us. Human life seems to be worth nothing in this Territory. Now, honest citizens are shot from ambush on their own doorstep for no reason at all. Soon it won't be safe to go out of the house."

"I don't think it's as bad as that," Slim said. "Mort Corey's kept things under control in his district. The gang that shot Jess is the exception. Sooner or later they'll trip themselves up with their own stupidity."

"I hope so. I get really worried when I see a man like Jess cut down. Who will be next?"

"That's a good question but I can't answer it. Just hope you don't run into them. And if you do, don't try to fight them if they've got the drop on you. Even then, there's no guarantee you'll survive."

"What happened to Jess is proof of that."

"Yeah. He didn't even know they were in the house and he didn't know them any more than they knew him."

Kellington shook his head in disbelief, looking downright upset. "It doesn't seem like it does any good to even be afraid. They're too unpredictable.

"I'd like to think we've seen the last of them, but there's no way to know that."

The well-groomed businessman on the other side of the desk seemed downcast. "It's all very worrying," he said and grabbed the brandy bottle. "Enough to make me want another drink. Have one with me?"

"No, thanks," Slim said.

"Well, I need another one," he said and downed a drink in one gulp.

"If you're that worried about it, why don't you hire extra guards for the stages, at least for now?"

"That's a fair question," Kellington answered, toying with his glass. "There are several reasons. First, is the cost. Since the railroad is here now, we have a lot of competition and I can't throw money away. Then there's the problem of finding good men. I had to fire a guard three weeks ago because he shot at a man who worked for the McIntire Ranch. He was following the stage because he was on his way to see his girl. The only reason he was injured is because the guard wasn't as good a shot as he claimed to be when we hired him on."

"I heard about that from one of the drivers."

"Many of the guards are always getting sick or injured - or drunk. But the third reason we don't like to use guards," Kellington continued earnestly. A guard on a stage is a dead giveaway that something valuable is on it. Guards attract robbers like flies to a piece of raw meat. There would be more holdups. The company would get a bad reputation, and we'd have to have insurance - a fourth reason."

"I thought insurance was one of your regular expenses."

"Only when it's necessary to have it. So you see Slim, as a rule, it's better not to have guards. It only makes the passenger nervous. And disgruntled passengers could ruin our reputation - and our bottom line."

"Well, I guess it's your call to make. I'm a rancher - and a relay station operator, which is why I'm here today."

"Are you having trouble?" Kellington asked and leaned forward expectantly.

"Some." Slim pulled out a horseshoe from a jacket pocket and put it on Kellington's green ink blotter. It looked incongruous among the silver photograph frames and shiny brass accessories.

"What's that?"

"A horseshoe."

"I know that - but I don't think you're giving it to me for a lucky charm."

"You're right about that. That shoe was forged at the Milford Station."

"So?"

"Well, look at it! It's misshapened and the iron is poor quality."

"Is that a problem?"

"You bet it is! Because of shoes like that one, three of our supply horses have gone lame."

"I don't know much about that part of the business. Maybe you should enlighten me."

Slim told him in detail why the shoes were faulty and how they made the horses go lame. Kellington was a surprisingly good student and seemed to understand the situation. Slim was glad he was able to convince the manager that something needed to be done but he didn't understand why Kellington had agreed so easily. Maybe there was something else going on that made him so agreeable. Slim didn't really care. The main thing was that he'd said he would look into the matter. Slim rose to leave.

Kellington accompanied him to the door, smiling and chatting pleasantly but as Slim started to walk out, Kellington stopped him, saying, "I was particularly glad to hear that Jess is getting better. I hope I can count on his help in the future."

Slim gave him an impatient look. "He's not that well. He can't leave the ranch."

"It would only be for a few days. "

"Not even for one. You better talk to Mort Corey about a hiring a guard."

"There's no point in doing that. He doesn't have anyone he can spare. And it's not his responsibility. Who knows? Maybe Jess…"

"Forget it."

"Maybe I should ask him."

"I don't think so. He has his own problems. You need to take care of yours yourself."

Slim sounded so adamant, Kellington dropped the subject.

Back out on the street, Slim took a deep breath of fresh air. The peculiar smell of Kellington's office, the stale cigar smoke, the overpowering aftershave he wore, left a bad taste in Slims' mouth - but he had to admit the brandy was good. He was satisfied that Kellington would look into the faulty horseshoe problem.

He'd planned to go by to see Mor, but on the way to the sheriff's office, he ran into Doc Higgins who was going back to his office after making some house calls.

"Good to see you, Dan," Slim said, glad for an opportunity to talk to him.

"Why? Is anything wrong? Do you want to come to the office?"

"Not now. I just want to talk something over with you."

"Well, walk along with me then. What can I do for you?"

"It's not about me. I'm worried about Jess." As they slowly walked toward Doc Higgin's house, Slim told him about the incident that happened last night. "Dan, there's something wrong with him," he concluded. "I've had that feeling all along. He has, too, but it's worse now."

"Well…" Dan scratched his ear in discomfort over what he was about to say. "I'm afraid you're right. I suspected it from the beginning, but I wasn't sure. That's why I didn't say anything."

"What the hell do you mean" Slim demanded.

During the next few minutes, Higgins explained Jess' true condition to Slim - and his chances of recovery. Slim finally understood that his suspicions of an internal infection were accurate. He wished they weren't.

"You have to do something to help him!" he said urgently. "You're his doctor!"

"I'm sorry, Slim. There's really nothing I can do. It's just a matter of time. It's a miracle he's lasted this long."

Slim was standing in front of the fence before the doctor's office. He ran his hand over his face. It was as white as the fence behind him.

"Why don't you come inside with me for a little while? I'll get you something to drink..." Higgins said.

Slim shook his head without looking at the doctor. "No… No, thanks." When he did look up again, his eyes spoke for him. "How… how long…?" he choked out, his voice barely audible.

"It's hard to say," Dan said. His own voice was husky and he hunched his shoulders. "It depends on a number of things, but he probably...won't survive the winter... If he stays here, there's no way..."

"'If he stays here'?" Slim seized on that tiny ray of hope. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"Look, Slim. I don't want to give you false hope, but… It might help him if he were in a different climate. But it's only a possibility! It might cause some temporary improvement, but it could also just prolong his suffering."

"But it could save him? It could give him a chance!"

"I don't know. I really don't know. All I do know is that if he stays here, he has no chance at all." He stopped, uncertain of how much he should say. When he continued, his voice was more professionally neutral. "I have a friend from my university days, Dr. Jonathan Tyler, who specializes in lung diseases. He was in practice on the East Coast for a number of years and has even studied in Europe. I haven't seen him in a long time but we correspond. I know he has a medical practice in Colorado Springs now."

"Colorado Springs?" Slim's hope began to rise despite Dan's words of warning. He'd clung to much thinner straws for his friend's sake. "That's not so far away. You have to write to him!"

"I already have. We've been corresponding for weeks about Jess' condition. He's of the same opinion as I am about a change of climate. I don't want to get your hopes up, though. Jess might get better but there's no guarantee. I'm expecting another letter from my colleague in a few days. Maybe, I can tell you something more concrete then."

"What do you think? Would it make sense for Jess to go to Colorado Springs?"

"Possibly. It depends on what Jonathan says. He's the best in his field. If anyone can help Jess, he can."

"Why didn't you say something about this before?"

"What was I supposed to say? That I was at my wit's end? Whether contacting Tyler makes will make any difference or not is still something I don't know. I hope so. I hope this is a mild, dry winter. I hope Jess will have a few more weeks or months to live! But I'm a doctor and I have to deal with facts, not wishes!"

"Take it easy, Dan!" Slim heard the helplessness and despair coming from the doctor. "I'm not blaming anybody, especially not you, not after everything you've done. Let's just hope your friend knows something that will help."

"Let's hope so," Dan said, but he didn't sound very confident.

"You need to talk to Jess about it. He was talking about dying last night. He seems so sure. Do you think he knows something we don't know?"

"He probably knows more than any of us. I'll talk to him as soon as I hear from Tyler and understand what he recommends."

"I hope it's soon. I'm afraid he doesn't have a lot of time left."

"Even so, I don't want you to tell him what I've told you."

"That's a hard thing to ask. I don't like lying to him."

"I'm not asking you to lie. Just don't say anything."

"That's easier to say than do. Jess has a way knowing things."

"If he asks about anything, just tell him to talk to me," Dan said firmly, then paused before he added, "I'm sorry I can't give you better news."

"You can't help that, Doc. You've done everything you can. I...I just don't want to lose him."

"I know, but sometimes it's not up to us." He jerked his thumb to the sky. "He's the one who will decide."

"Sure." Slim's mouth tightened. "Anyway, I'm glad you told me like it is. At least I know what I'm dealing with. Thanks, Dan."

Dan's face filled with sadness as he watched Slim walk away. Jess Harper would cost the doctor many a sleepless night. As Jess' symptoms worsened, Higgins would suffer, too. There would be nothing he could do except watch helplessly as Jess doggedly fought a battle he would lose in the end. As a physician, this was Dan's painful reality.

After Slim talked with Higgins, he didn't feel much like paying Mort Corey a visit but despite his sadness, he headed toward the sheriff's office anyway. From Mort, he learned a few more details about the upcoming cash transfer, including the news that everybody in town already knew about it. Mort was fairly sure there would a robbery attempt on whatever stagecoach was carrying the money. When Slim heard this, he was glad there was no question of Jess riding shotgun for the planned transport.

Before he left, he told Mort about his conversation with Dan Higgins. Mort was as shaken up as Slim by the doctor's prognosis, but sharing the bad news with him helped Slim overcome his initial shock. He felt better able to go home and disguise his sadness.

Nevertheless, he fought against despair as he rode back to the ranch. He was trying to hold on to hope despite what Higgins told him. Since the ranch was debt free at last, he and Jess could afford to buy more land and extend the herd, but they would need to hire help, at least over the summer. They couldn't handle the work alone even if they gave up the relay station contract, especially now that Jess was sick.

Slim's heart sank as he thought about everything that might in front of him and Jess. He knew no hired hand could ever replace his partner. He was the only one who had the skill to train the horses who were so highly prized and who brought in a lot of extra money. And no one would work as hard as Jess did. He was part-owner of the ranch and did the work of two men. And most of all he was Jess, his partner and brother. He was irreplaceable in more ways than one.

 _"_ _And maybe he won't be here at all,"_ Slim thought. He kept going over and over what Higgins said. His feelings had very little to do with the future of the ranch. Jess' future was all that mattered.

He got home just before the evening stage arrived. He switched out the horses and washed up at the outside pump before going inside for supper. As he walked into the house, the smell of roast beef lifted his spirits and he was glad to see that Jess had gotten up and seemed to be feeling better. It made it easier to push the doctor's words to the back of his mind.

Neither Slim nor Jess liked to talk business during meals but when Daisy brought them some coffee afterward and Mike was in the kitchen helping her, Jess couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.

"What did Kellington say about the horseshoe problem?" Jess asked after taking a gulp of the dark, steaming brew.

"If you can believe it, he took us seriously." Slim rattled his spoon around as he stirred his coffee. "He talked about a lot of other things first. I finally threw a horseshoe on his desk to get his attention."

"Yeah? I bet he liked that."

"I explained what was happening. He said he'd look into it. I think he will. And he told me to tell you hello and that he hopes you'll keep on getting better."

"Is that all?"

"Well, it seems like you're his long lost friend now. Majors, too."

"How come?"

"There's a lot of money in the bank, and Kellington and Majors want to transport it to Cheyenne. They're both worried about it getting there."

"What's that got to do with me?"

"What do you think?"

Jess knew what he meant. "I hope you talked 'em out of it."

"I tried, but I'm not sure I did. Mort says everybody in town already knows all about the money shipment. Even without that bad shoulder of yours, I'd want us to stay out of it. That stage will be a moving target for every gun in the Territory."

"Well, you know me. Could be interestin'."

"Yeah, I know you! And I know Kellington and Majors. And I know who would be on that stage if things were different."

"Maybe."

"They'd ask you, and you would go. Kellington counts on that - even now."

"You got a point." Jess looked down at his coffee cup. "But not this time."

"You've never turned them down before."

"I know it, but since all this happened I been closer to dyin' than I ever been before. Close enough to scare me. I never used to think much about it but now I can't quit thinking about it. Maybe it's because I got nothin' else to do."

"I don't think that's the reason."

"I ain't scared so much for myself," Jess said, still staring at his empty cup. "It's Mike. I want to stay around as long as he needs me. I don't plan to hide out or anything...but I got to think about him."

"Yeah, you do," Slim said thoughtfully. This conversation was becoming more serious than he wanted it to. Doc Higgins words surged back to the front of his mind. This was dangerous. Jess could sense things sometimes. In hopes of distracting his partner, he said, "I hope you keep on feeling that way. You need to take care of yourself."

"I aim to do that. Right now anyway." He looked up with some of the old high-spirited gleam in his blue eyes. "That'll give Kellington and Majors some sleepless nights."

Slim smiled, glad to see Jess' mood had lightened up. "I think they'll survive," he joked.

"Yeah," Jess said, pouring some more coffee from the pot Daisy had left on the table. "What does Mort say about the transport?"

"He's worried the stage might get the attention of our three friends."

"I thought about that, too." Now the gleam in Jess' eyes turned dangerous. "It would be a good way to draw them out."

"Mort said he was going to talk to with Majors about that," Slim said cautiously. "He might try to set something up with him."

"Good." Jess' gruff approval sounded ominous. He rubbed his chest, frowning. The constant tingle under the bandage got worse when he thought of the outlaws who were responsible for his injury. As he got better, he found himself wanting to set things right. Maybe he even wanted revenge. He wouldn't go looking for trouble but if he got the chance for a rematch, he would take it.

Lips pursed, Slim watched him for a minute, then said, "I'm afraid to ask what you're thinking about."

Jess blinked as if he were coming back from somewhere far off. He glanced up at Slim. "I ain't thinkin' about nothin' much."

"Well, the way you were looking could scare somebody. I'd hate to be the person you weren't thinking about."

"That ain't so."

"Oh, yeah?"

Jess avoided Slim's eyes and took a sip of his coffee. "Do you think Majors would be willin' to use the bank's money for bait?" he asked.

"No idea," Slim shrugged and let his partner change the subject. Jess obviously didn't want to talk about whatever he'd been feeling. "It would be a dangerous move. People could get hurt."

"Probably so. And Kellington'll be happy to let somebody else take the hit for him."

"As long as it's not you…."

"...you don't care. I know. But Mort's takin' this personally. He wants to be the one that gets 'em."

"Well, it's his job. He knows how dangerous they are."

"Anybody heard anything about where they are?"

"Nope. Not a trace."

"Somebody'll get 'em."

Slim gave him another close look. The scowl in his partner's eyes made the rancher uneasy. He wouldn't want Jess Harper as an enemy. He thought about the target practice on top of the hill. "I hope it won't be you," he said.

"Me? You think I might go after that gang myself?"

"You might run into them. They're still out there."

"And you want me to be friendly-like and let 'em have at me again?"

"I can count on you not doing that."

"Then we better change the subject," Jess growled. He filled his cup for the third time and took a minute to ease off before saying, "You went to the bank, too. How'd that go?"

Slim smiled. "We're in the black. The ranch is debt free.

"No kiddin'?" Jess said, perking up.

"Nope. And we made a good profit. Enough to get us through the winter and then some."

"That's great, Slim!"

"I put five hundred dollars into each of our bank accounts, and we can put in a bid for that land south of the river if decide to."

"It sounds good, but we got to think about how much we can handle. Mike's too much of a youn'un to help much - and I want him to stay in school." He paused for a minute. "And I don't know how much longer I'm gonna be able to hold out - and don't tell me it ain't so!"

"I don't know if you're right about that, but if we're going to buy more land, we're going to have to hire on some hands. How else can we handle this cattle empire we're building?"

"You feel that old already?"

"No, but that's what other outfits do - unless you like rounding up dumb cows in the freezing rain. We've got the money to let somebody else do that. And one day one of those wild mustangs you like to break is going to throw you off and break your neck - or your back. You need to spend your time training them, not breaking them."

After a second or so, Jess said, "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Am I hearing things? Did you just agree with me?"

"You heard me right. I don't know if I'll ever be in shape to do what I used to. I think we need to hire on help even if we don't buy the land by the river."

Slim was surprised - and wary. "Are you sure you're OK? Did I miss something?"

"No." Jess shrugged. "I been tellin' you I might not make it." Then he looked up, grinning. "Or maybe I just like to you guessin'."

"You can do that alright."

"It's kind of fun to see you get all hot and bothered."

"Who? Me?" Slim grinned back at him. At the moment Doc Higgins bad news seemed very far away. How could the future be so black when he and Jess were sitting here making plans and joking around. "Maybe," he added, "we ought to talk about what we should do about the relay station contract."

"I got the feelin' you don't want to renew it."

"It's a lot of trouble and we can do without the money now. And the railroad's going to put the Overland Stage Company out of business anyway. But the stages keep things interesting. You meet all kinds of people. Like Daisy. She was one passenger I'm glad decided to stay."

"She better keep on stayin'. I couldn't take any more of your cookin'."

"You think yours is any better?"

In the kitchen, Daisy heard her name and came to the doorway. "Are you boys talking about getting rid of me?"

"No!" Slim said. "You can't leave!"

"Don't worry. I'm not about to go anywhere. I can't leave Mike alone with the two of you!"

"Uh, oh, Slim," Jess said mischievously. "We're in trouble again."

"Now don't tell me I'm wrong!" Daisy declared.

"Not me!" Slim said. "Not after you hit that guy who was after your kitchen money with a frying pan!" He turned to his partner. "She's one of those interesting people I was talking about. She's a wildcat!"

"And I still have that frying pan if he comes back here again!" Daisy said with a lift of her chin, then she disappeared into the kitchen once more.

"He hightailed it out of here. I don't think we'll see him again," Jess said.

"I don't think so, either," Slim laughed.

"Come on," Jess said, getting up. "Let's go outside. "I need to walk off some of this coffee."

"Tonight? It's wet and cold out there and that's not good for you right now."

"Not gettin' to sleep's not good for me, either. We'll just go out to the gate and back."

Two minutes later they'd strapped on their guns and put on their jackets and were standing side by side on the porch looking out into the misty darkness. In the pasture just beyond the fence, a couple horses were visible as black shadows.

"Now that the place is debt-free, I feel even better about it," Jess said. "I think those stakes I put down are sproutin' roots."

They stepped off the porch, walking by the light of the lamps shining out from the house. Making their leisurely way around the corral and the barn, they checked on the horses and latches and made sure everything was secure. Then they walked up the road to the gate they'd constructed a few years before. An ironwork SR in the arch proudly proclaimed the ranch's name.

The evening mist hung above the pastures in a smoldering haze. At the house, wisps of fog danced in the light of the windows. The air was cold and wet and smelled of damp earth. The autumn weather this year had been one of the rainiest and mildest in the Territory's history.

True to Slim's prediction, the dampness aggravated Jess' lungs. He started coughing. His hand disappeared under his jacket as he pressed his fist against the wound and he doubled over.

Slim put his arm around his waist to support him and was reminded of how thin he was. "Are you OK?" he asked.

"It's...it's gettin' bad," Jess gasped. "We'd better go back."

Slim stayed close to him as they started back to the house but thankfully the attack didn't get worse. The pain eased and the coughing stopped. Jess straightened up, breathing as normally as he could. He felt better, but for his partner, the anxiety caused by Doc Higgins words returned full force.

There was a kind of telepathy between the two friends. Jess stopped and looked at Slim. "Did you go see Doc Higgins today?" he asked.

They were approaching the lights of the house and Jess could see the innocent expression on Slim's face. Slim wouldn't look at him. Jess sensed his partner was holding something back, but he didn't know why. "Just wonderin'," he said.

"Did you want me to go see him?" Slim said.

"I would of asked you to if I did. I just thought...maybe you went to see him after what happened last night."

"Well, then maybe I should go see him. Wouldn't hurt."

"Why? Are you sick?"

"Not me! You're the one with the problem."

"It's not that bad. I'll get used to it."

The conversation died. Jess understood his partner wasn't outright lying, but he wasn't telling the whole truth, either. He also knew if Slim was hiding something from him it would be for his own protection. Eventually, they would talk about it. Jess let it go for now. He didn't want to poke around in that wasp nest tonight.

Slim realized Jess had let him off the hook. He hadn't asked him if he'd spoken to Dan, only if he'd gone to see him. _"Well, I didn't",_ Slim rationalized to himself. He'd run into him - but he knew his partner knew he wasn't telling all of what happened. It didn't make him feel good to be evasive with Jess even though this situation seemed to justify it.

They finished their walk in silence. From the outside, they looked like two friends enjoying a nighttime stroll but in reality, they were both protecting each other: Slim by keeping quiet about what Doc Higgins said and Jess by not pressing him for an explanation of his silence.

When they reached the house, Slim went to the front door and was about to open it when he noticed Jess was no longer with him. He turned around looking for him and saw him standing near the bottom of the steps. His partner's back was to the house and he was staring into the fog as if he saw something out there.

"What are you looking at?" Slim asked. "You think somebody's sneaking up on us?"

"No," Jess said with such depth of feeling that Slim raised his brows in surprise. Jess looked up at him. The light from the windows shone into his eyes and the sadness in them hit Slim right in his heart. Jess looked like he was saying goodbye forever to something he loved and didn't want to leave.

"Come on inside, Jess," Slim heard himself pleading. "You promised Mike a game of checkers."

For a moment Jess stood motionless as if he couldn't tear himself away. On the porch, Slim watched him, worried. The lamp light shone on Jess' face, showing it to be more gaunt and pale than ever. It also revealed the same profound sadness that was in his eyes. Slim knew that sadness meant one thing. Jess knew what was ahead of him and he was convinced that his partner knew it, too, but he didn't want to talk about it. It wouldn't change things anyway.

"Come on, Jess," Slim said, an edge of irritability in his voice covering his anxiety. "You're staring at nothing. What's the matter with you? You look like you're trying to decide whether or not to jump off a cliff."

"You might be right," Jess said, almost to himself. He turned and climbed the steps but stopped at the blood stained post. "We ought to paint this thing over," he said, rubbing the post up and down with his right hand.

His quick change of mood confused Slim. "With everything that's been going I haven't had time to take care of it."

"It's in bad shape. I'll do it If you round up some paint. It'll keep me busy."

"It's got to be sanded first. Do you think you're up to that? We're going to repaint everything in the spring but it sounds like you want to do it now."

"Yeah," Jess said, "I do. This wet weather ain't good for the wood."

"That wood's hard as nails. It'll last the winter."

Jess kept absently rubbing the post. "Wood is sort of like people - some can hold up and some can't," he said so low Slim could barely hear him.

The rancher's anxiety about Jess' strange behavior was growing, and so was the irritability that covered it. "What does that mean?" he said with a frown. "Why're you talking about this anyway? You're not making sense."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Jess hit the post with his fist and straightened his shoulders. When he looked up at Slim the sadness hadn't completely disappeared but he'd made an effort to leave it in the mist that hovered just beyond the porch. "Come on," he said. "Let's get inside where it's warm."

END OF CHAPTER 18


	19. Chapter 19

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 19

About ten o'clock the next day, Jess came downstairs for the second time that day. He'd gotten up earlier for breakfast but went back to bed after he'd eaten because he wasn't feeling well.

Daisy was in the kitchen ironing when she heard him coming down the steps for the second time. She looked up expectantly, watching for him to walk in. The first thing she noticed about him was how tired his eyes were. The grey flannel shirt he was wearing accentuated his paleness.

"Jess," she said, worried, "I'm afraid you don't look well at all."

"Yeah, I know," he admitted. "I saw myself in the mirror. Seems like the more I sleep, the tireder I get."

"Why don't you let yourself sleep longer in the mornings instead of getting up so early then going back to bed?" she asked, wanting to do or say something to help him.

"You might be right." He forced a smile. "I'll do better tomorrow, but I don't want to hear any complainin' if you have to cook breakfast twice."

"You know that's not a problem! I just want you to take care of yourself!" She knew she was fussing and that she sounded frustrated and exasperated at the same time but she couldn't seem to help it. "If I see you down here at six o'clock tomorrow morning I'll chase you back upstairs with my broom. And then you won't get any breakfast at all!"

"Take it easy on me, Daisy!" He grinned a little. "You got to remember I'm a sick man."

"Yes, you are. I know you better than you think I do." Daisy's face softened and she came up to him and placed her hand on his gaunt face. "We shouldn't be joking about this. You need to get better, and you need rest to do that."

Jess grabbed her hand and pressed it to his cheek. He couldn't find the words to tell her what she gave to him: the feeling of love and security he'd lost as a child.

"I'm not joking," he assured her with a wistful look in his blue eyes. "I want to get well, too."

"I know you do. Now tell me...do you want something to eat?"

"No, thanks. Just a glass of milk." When she turned to get it for him, he said, "I can get it myself."

She stroked his cheek but let him go. He came back with a full glass and sat down in a chair near the ironing board. He to see her nimbly handle one piece of laundry after another.

"You know what?" he said. "It's kind of relaxing to watch you as long as I don't have to do it myself."

She looked over at him and smiled. "That's what my husband used to say."

"It didn't work when too good when Slim and me were doin' things ourselves. We'd get pretty worked up about it."

"I would have like to see that," she said, amused.

"We took it serious. Slim told me an iron wasn't a brandin' iron and I told him the thing wasn't an anvil when he tried it on one of my shirts. We finally decided to only iron things for special occasions."

Daisy laughed. "It would probably look just as funny if I tried to do one of your jobs."

"You'd probably do better than we did. We were real happy when you came along. Mike was, too."

"Since you needed a woman's touch, why didn't either one of you think about getting married?" Then she realized she'd encroached on a delicate topic. "I'm sorry, Jess. I didn't mean to bring back bad memories," she said, thinking of Laura.

"It's OK, Daisy. It was a long time ago."

Jess took it easy for the rest of the morning, talking to Daisy and watching her work. He didn't feel like doing anything else. Besides, it was good to think about the past and share it with her. He laughed about the times Slim almost got married and even ordered the wood for a new house. When things didn't work out, Slim used the wood to expand the existing ranch house, first the extra rooms downstairs and then adding the second floor. The conversation turned serious when Jess talked about Mike, about his fears of upsetting the boy by bringing a stepmother into the family. Even more serious were his fears of how his death might affect him. Daisy didn't comment too much. She just listened and nodded and asked questions to keep him talking.

When noon approached, Jess got up and stretched and smiled at Daisy. "You're better medicine than that stuff Doc Higgins gives me." He leaned over and quickly kissed her cheek, then with a crooked smile, he bolted for the door. "I better go out to the barn and see how Slim is getting along."

Daisy shook her head and laughed a little but her eyes were sad. She took a breath, walked over to the stove and stoked up the fire. Lunch would be on the table in half an hour.

In the following days, Jess tried to slow down and give his body a chance to heal but by the end of the week, he couldn't take it anymore. He asked Slim to hitch up the wagon. He was going to town.

"Are you sure about this?" Slim asked him, frowning.

"Sure as shootin'. I got to get out of here for a while - and I ain't had an attack for the last couple of days. If I don't see something different than horses and stages, boredom's goin' to kill me."

Slim knew it was a risk, but everything was a risk. Jess had to make his own decisions and take his own chances. Besides, Jess said he planned to go get Mike at school so he wouldn't be alone once he picked the boy up. The rancher wasn't sure he was doing the right thing by harnessing the horses to the wagon but he did it anyway.

"You want me to check on anything in town?" Jess asked.

"Go over to Hanson's and see if the iron work we ordered is ready. And while you're there, get some new hinges for the front gate. One of them is broken."

"Yeah, I saw that."

"And ask him if we can get the new pump in the next couple of weeks. We need it before the first freeze hits. The old one is getting worse."

"You see?" Jess said with satisfaction. "Somebody does need to go to town."

"Somebody always needs to go to town," Slim grumbled. "And if I were you, I'd get a haircut. You look like a horse thief hiding his bad ear under that curly mane of yours. And stay away from Mort's deputy. He might think you're one of those Pawnee who went off the reservation last month."

"I don't think any of 'em are as pale as I am."

"No, but from behind, he might not be able to tell the difference and go for the bounty."

"He can try," Jess joked.

All of a sudden, they both looked up, surprised to see Daisy walking toward them. She was wearing her long cape and matching hat and was clearly intending to go with Jess.

"Daisy, where're you goin'?" Jess asked.

"Why I'm going to town with you!" she said as she pulled on her black leather gloves. "Do you mind?"

"No," Jess said, looking a little confused by this turn of events.

"That's a great idea!" Slim said enthusiastically. Daisy was a genius.

"I think it is, too," she said. "I absolutely must talk to some of my women friends again. And now here you are, planning to go to Laramie today!"

Jess was studying her, his dark brows contracted. "Somehow I got the feeling this ain't an accident. Are you goin' along to play watchdog for me?"

"I was actually thinking more about you taking care of me," she retorted. "I wanted to go the other day with Slim but I didn't want to leave you alone. And I know you wouldn't want me to go into town by myself, not after all the terrible things that have been happening."

Jess cocked his head, his mouth quirking in wry resignation. He'd been outmaneuvered. "OK, Miss Daisy. You win."

"Well, that's just fine!" she said, beaming. "We'll have a wonderful day!"

"I was thinkin' about gettin' Mike after school let out and takin' him to lunch."

"Well, then, what if we eat in town and come back in the afternoon? That way we'll have plenty of time. Is that alright with you, Slim?"

"Sure, it is. Up you go!" he said, helping her into the wagon seat. He saw with relief that she picked up the reins before Jess could get to them and that Jess didn't say a word about it. Slim smiled to himself. Daisy had her own way of managing things.

When Daisy and Jess got to Laramie, they parted ways, going about their own errands. They agreed to meet later at the hotel for lunch.

The first place Jess went was to Toni's Barber Shop. The owner of the shop was an Italian immigrant who, proud of his American citizenship, shared this accomplishment with a beaming smile and in perfect English with any stranger he met. Right now he was at the shop's back entrance sweeping out the hair that inevitably accumulated on the barber shop floor. When he heard the bells clanging from the front door being slammed with a bang he knew who it was. Jess Harper always took great delight making as much noise as he could when he came in.

"Hey, Toni! This racket scares me every time!" He grinned and reclosed the door with exaggerated care.

"Signor Jess!" he exclaimed, putting down his broom and clapping hands together, his warm, dark eyes shining with joy. He liked to call Jess "Signor" because it seemed to go with his name. "This is a surprise!" he said. "I have not seen you in…" he counted on his fingers, "three months!"

"That's about right," Jess said. "Maybe longer."

"Ah, that was a terrible thing!" Toni helped him out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack. "The whole town has been talking about it. Now I can see for myself. You are very thin and pale."

"How about sayin' I'm slim, like my partner," Jess joked, not wanting things to get too serious.

"Whatever the word, you still look very sick." Toni looked at him sadly. "But these men would go to hell if they showed up in my shop. I would give them a quick cut across the throat with my razor!" he said with zeal, demonstrating by slicing his finger across his own throat.

"Don't do that!" Jess said seriously. "Don't try anything. They're killers. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"If you say so…. Do you know them?"

"No! And I don't want to. One run in with 'em is enough."

"You were very badly hurt, is that not right?" He shook his head and looked at the empty shirt sleeve that was tucked into Jess' waistband. "What have they done to you?"

"Aw..," he looked at his shoulder "this is only temporary. My arm's still there."

"Nevertheless, I am seized with terrible rage when I think about what I read in the newspaper. And now to see you here before me…"

"Let it go, Toni. What I need now to get this tumbleweed off my head."

"Of course!" The barber threw the protective cloth over Jess and tied it securely. "A haircut and a shave?"

"Just a haircut."

"As always?"

"Yep."

"You know, in the East, they are wearing the hair parted in the middle with a lot of pomade. Should I….?"

"No!"

"But it is the fashion!"

"Just cut my hair so I can recognize myself!"

"Si, Signor." Toni sighed, disappointed. Signor Jess had such beautiful hair. He would like to fashion it in the modern style.

Jess closed his eyes. "What's new in town?" he asked.

"Oh, not very much. Mrs. Barlow had her fifth baby - a boy, finally! And old Sam Klugman died three weeks ago of old age. And the Women's Union for Law and Order complains as usual about the immorality of today's young people."

Jess laughed. "That ain't nothin' new."

"That is true. Are you going to see your friend the sheriff while you are in town today?"

"I'm goin' over there next."

"Well, he is very, very angry. The posters of the men who hurt you are everywhere but he has not yet arrested them. And now Mr. Majors wants to transport the bank's money next month. It is supposed to be a secret but everybody knows it already. Have you heard about it?"

"Yeah, like everybody else."

"In the saloon, they are placing bets on whether the money will be stolen or not. I am thinking my money will be safer under my mattress than in Mr. Majors' bank."

"You better leave it where it is. It's been talked about so much the crooks've probably been scared off. They know it'll be guarded."

"You are probably right. But Mr. Kellington is still very worried because his company will be responsible for the transfer."

"I heard about that, too."

"Now he's gone to Cheyenne to the main office. I bet when he is there he will complain about having so much responsibility for the money. I do not understand why the bank does not use the railroad to transport the money. I think that would be the safer that way."

"It would probably cost more. Majors wouldn't like that."

"But it is more expensive for the money to be stolen!"

"You got a point."

"Will you accompany the transport?"

"You wantin' to place a bet?"

"No! Signor Jess, how could you think such a thing? It is just I would sleep better at night if I knew you would be guarding the money."

"I can't do it this time, not with this bum arm. But if you want some advice...if you put your money on 'no' you'll have a winnin' bet."

Toni smiled sheepishly. Jess had seen through him with his eyes closed.

When Toni finished his work, he took the cloak off Jess and brushed the hair from his neck and shoulders. As Jess looked in the mirror to inspect his haircut, he saw a reflection of a rider through the barber shop window. Something about the man looked familiar, but he couldn't remember any details about where he had seen him before. Strangers rode through Laramie all the time, but there was something about this one that had caught Jess's attention and not in a good way. He jumped out of the chair and went to the window to see who he was but he was gone.

"What is the matter, Signor Jess?" Toni was confused and followed him to the window.

"I don't know. I thought I saw somebody in the mirror that I know, but he's gone now. Any strangers come by here lately?"

"No, no more than usual. Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Jess didn't know what was bothering him himself. He looked out of the window again just to make sure the man wasn't out there. Then he fished some coins out of his pocket and gave them to Toni. "This is for leavin' off the pomade," he joked.

"Thank you, Signor Jess! Ah, but you look so much better now!" the barber said, looking him over from head to toe as if he were considering him as a possible groom for one of his many female family members. His daughters weren't of marriageable age, but there were a number of young cousins and nieces in need of a husband.

"Thanks, Toni, but I think you're exaggeratin' some," Jess said. He forgot about the rider. Instead, he ran a hand over his hollow-cheeked face and took his chin between his fingers as he looked in the mirror. Even his sinewy hand was just a bony remnant covered by pale skin that looked as transparent as the skin on his face. "I look kind of like a ghost," he said. "I could scare people in broad daylight."

"No, no. That is not true! You have just been very, very ill." Toni discovered a few dark hairs on Jess' neck and vigorously brushed them off. Then he fetched Jess' jacket and helped him put it on. "I am glad you are feeling better again," he confessed in his heartfelt way. "I have been very worried about you."

"Thanks, Toni." The barber's sincerity had succeeded in embarrassing him a little. "That means a lot."

They said goodbye and Jess left the shop intending to go over to the sheriff's office and speak to Mort, but as he stepped out onto the street, he almost collided with Gary Morgan who came barreling around the corner of a side street. Gary tried to scurry past Jess, mumbling an apology, but when he looked up, he recognized him.

"Jess! Jess Harper! It's you!" he cried and grabbed Jess' right hand and shook it hard enough to yank it off.

"Careful, Gary!" Jess said, pulling back. "I'm not all that well yet!"

"Of course! Excuse me! I'm just so surprised to see you! I completely forgot… I hope I haven't hurt you."

"I'm fine."

"How have you done it? My God, you still look quite battered but when I think of how you were after the attack…. And here you are today looking very debonair! Is this the first time you've been to town?"

"Yeah."

"You were terribly wounded," Gary continued, still examining him closely. "But I can see that you're better. Are you going to do something about that gang? The sheriff has tried hard but hasn't caught them. Will you go after them?"

Jess had the feeling Gary was already writing his next newspaper article in his head. "You think that's something I ought to do?" he asked, on his guard.

"Well… no, not exactly." Morgan started walking with Jess toward Hansons' shop. "But you might come at it from a different angle than Corey. After all, they almost killed you. I can imagine…"

"That I might be lookin' for revenge?"

"Revenge might not be the best word but...nobody would blame you. The whole town's behind you."

"Including the Women's Union?"

Gary glanced at him sideways. He was surprised Jess wasn't taking this more seriously.

"I'm not joking," he said, slightly miffed.

"I ain't either."

"Then will you do anything?"

"What do you want me to do? I can't do anything that Mort ain't done already. And I got to get well before I can take it on anyway."

"Then you won't accompany the transport stage next month?"

"Nope."

"Oh, dear!" Gary lamented. "I can see bad things happening!"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Kellington won't find anybody to take your place."

"That ain't likely. I'm not operatin' at a hundred percent right now. Somebody else can guard it better than me."

"Oh, of course, of course. Pardon me. I didn't think…. I always forget how badly you've been wounded. I just can't believe it. It's been a shock for everyone in Laramie."

"It takes longer to get over something like this than most folks think. You goin' to write that I ducked out of goin' with that stage because I'm scared?"

"Jess!" Gary was indignant. "How could you think such a thing?"

"You might've done it." Jess was studying him with the steady, assessing look that disconcerted most people subjected to it.

"Never! Never that about you! A person would have to be blind not to see how ill you still are. I would write an editorial refuting any implication that you weren't accompanying the stage out of fear!"

"That's good to hear. Not many newspaper men stick to the facts."

"I'm afraid you're right about that. Most newspaper editors are out for the money. The more sensational an article is, the better the paper sells. The written word is a strange thing. It's more powerful than any weapon made by man. A very dangerous thing."

"No argument there."

They'd reached Hanson's shop. Gary turned to Jess and shook his hand again, this time making sure he did it gently in order not to hurt him.

"Now that you're back on your feet again, I hope we'll see more of you around town."

"Thanks, Gary," Jess said and watched smiling a little as the newspaper man dashed off, dodging traffic on the way back to his office.

Jess intended to make a quick stop at Hanson's to pick up the iron work and ask about the pump but stayed longer than he planned because everyone in the shop wanted to talk to him to ask about how he was doing. When he finally got free, he went over to see Doc Higgins but the doctor wasn't there. Mrs. Howard, his housekeeper, said he was out making his weekly rounds of the farms and ranches in the area. He wouldn't be back until the next evening.

Back out on Main Street, he headed for the bank. It took him awhile to get there. He was welcomed by the citizens of Laramie like a long lost sheep who had finally reappeared, badly damaged, but thankfully still alive.

When he got to the bank, it was about ten minutes before closing time. He went immediately to the teller's window and transferred his five hundred dollars of the ranch's yearly profit to an escrow account he'd established earlier to make sure Mike would always be provided for. Given his current situation, that was more important to him than ever.

He was heading for the door when he heard his name called by Lincoln Majors, the bank manager, who had seen him and come out of his office to talk to him. Jess turned to greet him.

"Howdy, Mr. Majors," he said. He had an idea why Majors had stopped him.

"This is a pleasant surprise!" the banker said enthusiastically. He offered his meaty hand and Jess took it, hoping he wouldn't pump his arm off like Morgan had, but Majors was more thoughtful. "How are you?" he asked with genuine interest.

"Still standin'."

"I'm glad to see that! Do you have a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"A few," Jess said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Wonderful! Mr. Counts!" he called to the clerk. "You may close for lunch now. I'll let Mr. Harper out."

Majors led the way into his office and gestured toward a big, comfortable chair near his desk. The banker was a portly, amiable man who enjoyed talking to his customers and making sure they were well provided for. "Please have a seat," he said. "Would you have some cognac with me, a real French one? It's very easy on the tongue."

"No, thanks," Jess replied.

Majors sat down at his paper strewn desk. "I probably should forego it myself." He patted his stout midsection. "I'm not getting any younger," he said jovially, then leaned forward. "I don't want to take up a lot of your time, but I'm sure you've heard about the transfer of money the bank is planning to make."

"I reckon everybody in town's heard about it," Jess replied, still on his guard.

"I know. It's hard to keep a secret in Laramie. That's why I wanted to talk to you…."

"If it's about ridin' guard for that stage, the answer is 'no'."

Majors took a breath and sat back in his chair, looking guilty. "You're a very perceptive young man. I was going to ask you that, but when I saw you, I knew that it was out of the question. You are still a very sick man. I thought Morgan may have exaggerated his reporting of your injury but now that I see you for myself…."

"He can write some interestin' readin'," Jess said, grinning a little. He relaxed now that Majors knew where he stood. As he leaned back against the chair, his jacket fell open to reveal his leather gun belt and the walnut handled Colt.

Majors studied him, fascinated. Even in his weakened condition, Jess Harper radiated a calm assurance that made Majors feel safe. The banker knew the gun Jess wore wasn't an ornament. It was a weapon its owner could expertly use when circumstances made it necessary.

Jess broke into Majors reflective trance. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Forgive me. I was thinking of something else… " He grew very serious. "But before I go on I must ask that this conversation be kept completely confidential. That doesn't include Slim Sherman or the sheriff, naturally, but there must not be another word of what we talk about to anyone else.

"Sure," Jess said. "What's this about?"

"It's an idea Mort Corey asked me to consider, a way to keep the transport money safe. He said we should think about a "bait" stage, a stage that would be rumored to have the transport money in it, but the money would, in reality, go by another stage on a different date. I wonder what you think of that idea?"

"Slim told me about it - but there would be a good chance that one or both stages would be attacked. People would probably get hurt even if you sent a group of Marshals with both coaches…."

Jess and Majors spent the next fifteen minutes discussing different alternatives. Taking sixty thousand dollars from Laramie to Cheyenne was a dangerous thing to do anyway you looked at it.

Finally, Jess brought up Toni's suggestion. "You could send it by the Union Pacific. There's no guarantee the train wouldn't be hit but it's safer than the stage." Then he added, "If you let the railroad take it, you could send the dummy stage, too, about the same time. It would be expensive, but it's your best bet of gettin' the money all the way to Cheyenne."

"Sending it by rail wouldn't cost that much, although a dummy stage would be a large expense…." Majors said, dithering. "But I think that's the best idea that we've come up with. I'll talk to Sheriff Corey about it."

"If you do work out a plan with Mort, don't tell anybody but him. You ought to be the only one that knows the shippin' date. Otherwise, it won't work."

"Thank you for advice, Jess - but I still wish you could go with it to guard it. I know it would be safe that way."

Jess stood up. He'd already been here longer than he'd meant to be. "Good luck, Mr. Majors."

"You're leaving?" Majors said, surprised.

"I'm meetin' somebody for lunch."

"Oh, of course. Excuse me for taking so much of your time."

The banker came out from behind the desk to escort Jess out. Standing beside the gaunt cowboy, Majors looked like an overstuffed flour sack.

"Thank you, Jess," he said sincerely. "Take care of yourself."

"I'm plannin' to." Jess shook the banker's fleshy hand. His own hand was skin and bones.

Majors went with him to the front, then stood by the window to watch him walk away, still fascinated by the rail-thin man. He was glad Harper was on the side of the law instead of fighting against it. As he studied him, he saw Jess lean against a pole supporting the sidewalk roof and start coughing. The banker debated whether he should go out to help him, but Jess quickly straightened up. Majors shook his head and turned away, grateful that Jess seemed to be alright, at least for the moment, but sick at heart by how very ill he still was.

For Jess, the attack was intense but brief. He leaned against the post until the pain that stabbed through his chest eased up and the coughing stopped. Then he straightened up and walked somewhat stiffly toward the sheriff's office across the street.

Jess usually entered Mort's office by jerking the door open, hoping to catch the sheriff cursing over a stack of paperwork, but he didn't feel up to it today. He walked in quietly, very much at home in a place where he'd spent a lot of time as a deputy. To Jess' surprise, the office was empty.

Then he heard Corey calling out from one of the jail cells. "Just have a seat," the sheriff said. "I'll be with you in a minute." A few seconds later, Mort walked in wiping his hands with the rag he'd been using to oil one of the cell doors. "A messy job," he complained before he looked up and saw who was standing there. "Jess!" he yelped, delighted. "You old son of a gun. You've finally come back to town!" He took a couple of long strides over to him and grabbed his right shoulder with one hand and shook hands with the other.

"I thought you might of forgot me." Jess said, smiling. "It's been a long time."

"Not that long, boy. I can still remember some things - like Miss Daisy's cooking when I was out to the ranch a couple of weeks ago. But here now, sit down!" He gestured to the chair by his desk. "I'll get us some coffee."

"That pot's probably been brewin' since the last time I was here."

"Well, it'll put hair on your chest, that's for sure," Mort agreed. He poured out two cups and sat down with Jess at the desk. "What're you doing in town? Did Doc turn you loose?"

"He didn't say I _couldn't_ come," Jess said with a wry smile. "And when I went lookin' for him before I came over here, he wasn't in his office." He took a sip of the jet black liquid in his cup and leaned back in the chair. "I guess I've been holed up one place too long. I had to get out of there for a while."

Mort leaned toward him. "How're you really doing, Jess. You don't look so good. Too thin."

"Yeah, Toni made me look in the mirror when I was at his place. And at the bank, Majors acted like I had one foot in the grave."

"You saw Majors?"

"Yeah. I was in the bank and he wanted to talk to me."

"About the transport?"

"Mostly. He didn't push me about ridin' guard once he saw me, but he wanted ideas about gettin' the money to Cheyenne without losin' it on the way."

"Sixty thousand dollars is a lot to worry about."

"Yeah, it is. I told him he ought to send the money with the railroad and use a dummy stage guarded by Marshalls as bait. And to keep his mouth shut about the date the money goes out. He's not too happy about it, though. Too expensive. And I'm not sure the dummy stage is a good idea anyway."

"It's still our best chance to draw that gang out."

"Maybe. But they might not bite." He was quiet for a moment, pondering on the problem. "You know, it would be more like them to try and rob the bank here in town before the money is shipped."

"Did you tell Majors that?"

"No," Jess grinned. "I just now thought of it."

Mort shook his head. "It's hard to tell what those three will do."

"You told me they like to kick up a ruckus where people can watch 'em." His voice lowered and slowed. "The more I think about it, the more I think they'd rather attack here in town than on the road. They'd get noticed more… and have more innocent people around to target." He stared bitterly at his coffee cup.

Mort nodded. "I'm looking at one right now."

Despite his emaciated body, when Jess looked back at the sheriff, his eyes were cold, hard and vigilant, the eyes of a gunfighter who knew what he wanted and how to go about getting it.

Seeing that expression, Mort was glad Jess was on his side.

END OF CHAPTER 19


	20. Chapter 20

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 20

The long trip to town turned out to be too much for Jess. He told the family he wasn't tired, but he couldn't tell himself that. He went to bed early that evening and slept late the next morning. He felt like he was going backward, needing more sleep than ever and never feeling really rested.

He finally got downstairs about lunch time. Daisy tried to get him to let her fix some breakfast for him, but he told her he would wait for lunch. He wasn't feeling all that hungry anyway. The rattle of the noon stage ended the small argument. Jess went to the front door, grabbed his gun belt, strapped it on and was heading for the door when someone knocked on it and opened it at the same time. Jess stepped back to avoid being hit on his wounded shoulder.

It was Arthur Kellington, barging into the house with boyish rambunctiousness. "Hello!" he called. "Anyone home?" He turned and spied Jess standing half-hidden by the door. "Jess!" he exclaimed joyfully, grabbing his hand and shaking it hard.

"Howdy, Mr. Kellington," Jess said, grimacing a little from pain and pulling his hand away. "Take it easy there. I still got a bum shoulder."

"Oh, I am so very sorry!" The tall, skinny man seemed to be all arms and legs. Jess' reaction discombobulated him even more. "I do hope I haven't hurt you with my thoughtlessness," he said, reaching out to touch the very shoulder Jess was talking about.

Jess was too quick for him. He stepped back in time to avoid contact. "If you grab that shoulder, I'll be completely out of action."

"Oh, I say! I'm like a bull in a china shop! My apologies!" He didn't seem to know what to do next, but as he finally took a good look at Jess, he blurted out, "My God, you look terrible!"

"Thanks for the compliment," Jess said with a wry smile. Kellington's antics seemed kind of funny to him now that he was out of harm's way.

"How are you?" Kellington asked, his sincerity obvious in his voice and in his face. "I came out to see you once before. It was shortly after you were injured and Slim told me you weren't able to have company yet."

"Well, thanks for thinkin' about me. Right now I'm mostly sleepin' a lot, out of boredom probably. Come on in and have some coffee."

Kellington wouldn't consider sitting down until he spoke to Daisy. He met her coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray with cups and a pot of coffee.

"Ah, Mrs. Cooper! What a delightful treat it is to see you!" he exclaimed, leaning toward as if to embrace her.

Daisy held the tray a bit higher to ward off the young manager's awkward greeting. "Why, Mr. Kellington!" she said. "It's so nice to see you, too. How are you and how is that family of yours?"

"Very well, indeed, thank you. I don't need to ask how you are! You look as fresh and as young as the flower that bears your name!"

"Thank you! You are very kind. Now have a seat, and I'll pour you some coffee."

Daisy made a quick escape back to the kitchen, and Jess blocked any further social niceties by asking, "Have you been out to see Milford about those horseshoes?"

Kellington blinked a little, looking blankly at Jess for a moment, disconcerted by this sudden shift in the conversation he was having, mostly with himself; then he settled himself in his chair, straightened his shoulders and focused on the business that brought him to the ranch in the first place.

"Yes. Yes, I have. I think I explained the situation to him very clearly. He had no idea there was a problem. He did admit that he had very little experience in iron work. However, he is anxious to give satisfaction and will discontinue doing the iron mongering and farrier work himself."

"That's good news. We won't have to deal with any more lame horses."

"No, I don't believe you will. You and Slim discovered the problem. Slim informed me about it before it became a major impediment for the company."

"Lew Withering suspected it before we did. He told Slim he'd said somethin' to you about it."

"He did, but as I mentioned to Slim, the drivers are always complaining about one thing or the other. If I looked into all their complaints, how would I have time to do anything else?"

Jess let that question go unanswered. Instead, he asked, "What's goin' on in Cheyenne? Anything new?"

"Nothing that I know of. I did see Marshall Peters a few weeks ago. He told me to pass along his best wishes to you for a speedy recovery."

"Thanks for lettin' me know."

"Such a terrible tragedy," Kellington continued, looking intently and with a certain amount of curiosity at him. "To be shot down on your own doorstep - and in front of your family! You can't imagine how much everyone regrets what happened to you."

"Slim said he told you all about it. Why don't we talk about somethin' more interestin'?"

"Of course," Kellington said reluctantly. He was surprised that Jess actually appeared to physically shrink away from discussing the attack. He'd always thought of him as a tough guy. Maybe there was another aspect of the man he'd never been aware of before. "Of course, he repeated, looking at his cup. "I should realize that such things are easier to talk about for people who have never experienced them - people like myself. And to think I came here with the intention of asking you to accompany the transport of the bank's money." He looked back up at Jess. "You've heard about that, I suspect."

"Who hasn't? I was in town yesterday, and half the people I met wanted to know if I was ridin' shotgun for it."

"Yes, I know. That's the problem. It's making it harder to find men who are willing to guard it…"

"So you rode out here to ask me."

Kellington smiled, somewhat shamefacedly, "I had to approach you myself regardless of Slim's warning not to. If I hadn't I would have always wondered if I could have persuaded you. I'm sorry, Jess. I really had no idea what a difficult time you are having."

Jess stared at the floor, ignoring the comment. "Have you asked the main office in Cheyenne for help?"

"I tried and got the usual run around - no men, no money. Making sure the money gets there safely is my responsibility and mine alone."

"How about talkin' to Lincoln Majors? I saw him yesterday in the bank. It's his bank's money, and he's pretty worried about it. He's goin' to talk to Mort Corey about makin' a plan that everybody don't already know all about.'

"Unfortunately, Sheriff Corey is only responsible for the money _after_ it has been stolen."

Jess' mouth crooked in a smile. "I guess you're right about that - but he could give you some advice on how to get it to Cheyenne."

"I suppose that's true," Kellington agreed thoughtfully, his demeanor becoming more reserved as he made an effort to observe Jess without being caught at it. During their conversation, he'd gradually become aware of how hard it was for the wounded man to take a breath. He was visibly having trouble breathing, struggling for air between each comment he made. An icy chill shot down the Kellington's spine as he fully understood the dreadful reality of Jess' state of health. This realization was quickly followed by a deep sense of compassion. "Jess," he said suddenly, leaning forward, "the company owes so much to you. And the town of Laramie, too. You've come to our defense on so many occasions! Don't forget I'm a member of the City Council. If we can do anything for you - anything at all - please let us know at once."

"Thanks. But I don't think you or the City Council can do much for me. It's somethin' I got to work out for myself."

"It's your health isn't it?"

Jess looked down, nodded once but then took charge of the conversation again. "How're the other relay stations doin'?"

Kellington set back in the chair, respecting Jess' obvious unwillingness to discuss his personal situation. "Well, I'm afraid there will be some changes in the future. The main route that parallels the railroad will be discontinued this winter. But, of course, the other routes between the smaller towns will remain and will become "feeder" routes for the railroad stations in Laramie and Cheyenne. Your franchise will, unfortunately, be affected. Do you understand?"

"Sure. Slim and me have already been talkin' about that. It's probably time for us to make a change anyway."

Just then, the front door opened and Slim stuck his head inside. "The stage is ready to roll out," he said and disappeared again.

"Well, I suppose I must go," Kellington said with regret. "I wish I could stay longer."

"I'll go out with you," Jess said, rising with him. "Let me get my jacket."

Kellington followed Jess to the door, but as he waited while Jess put on his jacket, his eyes wandered to the window that the gunman hid behind before the ambush. The bright, shiny pane was obviously new. Kellington's inane youthful expression was replaced by sober distress. It aged him. "You can see everything in the yard from here," he murmured to himself. "It's just like Morgan described it."

"We got to go," Jess said. "The stage is waitin'..."

"Oh, pardon me!" Kellington came back to his own version of awareness. "It's just that the killer was so close to you…"

Jess walked out of the door, leaving Kellington to follow in his wake.

When Kellington got outside, he turned to look back at the house. The living room behind the new window pane was dark, totally concealed by the sun's reflection. "There was no way you could have seen him," he said, but Jess kept on walking toward the stage.

Kellington paused for a moment to watch him. Despite the empty jacket sleeve swinging at his side, his supple, steady stride exuded confidence, revealing the assurance of a man who had every muscle in his body under control. The Colt that bulged on his right hip and the long thigh beneath it underlined his absolute readiness to respond to any situation. Someone who was so reliable and had so much physical agility and toughness would have been the perfect guard for the bank's money. But Kellington, in his expensive woolen coat that was too heavy for the mild autumn weather and too thin for Wyoming winters, knew better than to ask him about it again. Having placed considerable importance in maintaining a good relationship with him, he didn't like to think of Jess being annoyed with him.

END OF CHAPTER 20


	21. Chapter 21

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 21

Early on Monday morning, Jess found Slim in the barn and asked him to hitch up the wagon for him.

"You going into town again?" Slim asked.

"Yeah. Dan wasn't in his office when I was there last week. I told his housekeeper I'd come back today."

Without another word, Slim went into the corral to fetch the horses and the harness. He kept himself busy hitching up the wagon, studiously avoiding any conversation with Jess. He couldn't tell him what Higgins had said and he couldn't lie to him. It was better to say nothing.

It was hard for Jess not to notice Slim's evasiveness. His partner wouldn't even look at him. He'd suspected all along that the doctor said something to Slim that Slim didn't want to talk about ever since their walk to the gate and back the other night.

When the wagon was ready, Jess climbed into the driver's seat without breaking the unnatural silence except to say, "I'll go get Mike at school and let him ride back with me. Tell Daisy to make us something good for lunch. We'll be hungry."

Slim nodded and watched, frowning, as his partner drove down the road to Laramie. There was nothing good to hope for from Jess' trip into town but if Higgins told Jess the truth about his condition and about the possible treatment available in Colorado Springs, at least they could talk openly about things again.

Jess made good time and made his first stop Hanson's shop to ask about the pump. It still hadn't come in but Hanson said it might arrive in the cargo delivery coming in later that day.

Jess turned Traveler over to the livery stable and walked down to Doc Higgins' office. Dan was waiting for him.

"Jess!" he said, welcoming him in. "Mrs. Howard told me you'd be coming by today - but I don't remember giving you permission to ride into town."

"You didn't." He grinned a little but his eyes were serious. "I got tired of stayin' in one place."

"Yes, I know how that is, but still, you should be more careful."

"Would that make a difference?" Jess asked sardonically as he took off his jacket and gun belt and hung them on the coat rack.

The doctor didn't answer the question. "Sit down, Jess, and take off your shirt while I wash my hands."

A few minutes later, Higgins started cutting away the old bandage around Jess' wound. When it was removed, he took his stethoscope and listened very intently to his patient's heartbeat and breathing. He made encouraging noises for Jess to hear but his face was grim. He knew he was listening to the internal sounds of a dying body. After he was finished, he examined the wound itself. It was healing externally, leaving an ugly scar, but that wasn't the problem.

He rewrapped the bandage, then asked Jess, "You're still having a problem with breathing, aren't you? And the pain is still bad?"

"Yeah, sometimes. It gets worse at night when I lie down. And since the weather has changed, I can start coughin' out of the blue. Mostly when I go from a warm place to a cold one - or the other way around. One night I woke up and felt like I was suffocatin'." He let Dan help him back into his shirt. "What did you hear with that trumpet of yours?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Cut it out, Dan. I know something's wrong with me."

Higgins turned away and went to take a seat behind his desk. Despite his remarkable medical skills, the doctor with the thinning hair and bright, kind eyes looked a little lost in his massive leather chair. He started fiddling with his fountain pen.

"Has Slim talked to you?" he asked.

"About what?" Jess' eyes narrowed. "Did he came to see you?"

"No. Not directly. We ran into each other when he was in town the other day."

"Well, at least he didn't lie about that. But that ain't the all of it. He wouldn't talk to me about it. Why not?"

"Because I asked him not to."

"Why couldn't you just tell me? It's about me, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, spit it out!" Dan's reticence was irritating him. "If you want to tell me I probably won't get well, just get on with it! You think I don't know what's goin' on?" He jerked his thumb at his chest. "I've known it for a long time! Is that what you can't tell me? Well, I done it for you! It ain't enough my partner can't talk to me. My doctor can't either!"

"Are you done?"

Jess threw his head back and closed his eyes. He needed a minute to calm down. He tried to take a deep breath but couldn't. Finally, he lowered his head, stared at the floor and said, "Sorry." He ran his thumb over his forehead. "You saved my life. I don't have the right to talk to you like that."

"It's all right," Dan said sympathetically. "But before we go on, I want you to do me a favor. Don't blame Slim. I'm sure it wasn't easy for him."

"Yeah. I noticed."

"It's my doing. I made him promise not to say anything to you. He insisted he wouldn't lie to you."

"He didn't. I didn't give him the chance. But I knew…. I knew something was botherin' him. And I knew what it was." He looked up. "What did you tell him?"

"That…," Dan was finding it hard to be open with Jess. It hurt him as a doctor and he was also Jess' friend.

"It looks bad," Jess said, helping him even if it was his life they were talking about it. "Is that what you're tryin' to tell me?"

The doctor nodded almost imperceptibly. "Yes," he said softly. "Yes, Jess. I'm sorry."

Jess' throat tightened and he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching. Under the dressing, the wound was burning like fire.

"How bad is it?"

"It's very serious." The doctor was still having trouble looking him in the eye.

"That sounds like…." Now that he could finally talk with his doctor, he found it hard to put his own dark thoughts into words. "I'm goin' to die, right?"

"Don't talk like that!"

"Damn it! How am I supposed to talk?"

Dan shook his head. His own throat was dry and swollen. He couldn't find the words to say. He hadn't expected this to be so hard. It would be a lot easier if he didn't know his patient so well. He made a great effort to raise his head and meet Jess' eyes.

Jess stared at him, waiting for him to say something but Dan just looked at him, compassion and sorrow filling his eyes. It was Jess who finally looked down. All of a sudden, he felt miserable. The realization hit him that it was his life they were talking about, not someone else's.

There was an enormous difference between the idea of dying and the certainty of it. At that moment Jess knew how much he valued his life - even if he sometimes handled it carelessly.

"How much longer?" he asked quietly. His voice was hoarse, nearly inaudible.

"That...that might depend on you," came the answer, just as quietly.

"On me!" Jess exploded. "You better explain that! Don't tell me I got a chance if I just try hard enough! I've tried for three months! You kept tellin' me to fight like hell and now you're tellin' me it was all for nothing!"

"Hold on there!" Dan said, finding his voice again. "Do you understand what I'm talking about here?"

"My death sentence! What else? Sorry you don't like what I have to say about it but maybe I'm talkin' so much because you ain't! Go ahead! Explain it to me! Tell me all about dyin'!"

"You sound like you want to die! You haven't even asked me about the possibility of…"

He hesitated too long for Jess. "Alright, I'll do you a favor and ask! What're you talkin' about?"

"You're impossible, you know."

"How do you expect me to be? Happy that I'm goin' to cough myself to death? That's what's goin' to happen. Right?"

When Dan had talked to Slim about this, he hadn't experienced what now felt like an insurmountable reluctance to tell things like they were, but with Jess in front of him, he had to make a determined effort to fulfill his duty as a doctor and educate his patient about his fate.

"If you stay here," he said slowly, "yes. That is what will happen sooner or later."

"What do you mean, 'if I stay here'"?

"You ought to have a different climate."

"A different climate? Like where?"

"The Southwest would be the best. New Mexico or Arizona. It's especially warm and dry there."

"And dusty."

"You wouldn't be herding cows, Jess."

"Oh, yeah? But what if I got bit by a Gila monster? You ain't thought of that, have you?"

"This isn't a joke. You need to listen to what I'm saying."

"I heard you. You think goin' down there might help."

"It might."

"Or it might not."

"There's no more than a fifty percent chance - at most."

"Then you can forget it. I'm not goin' a thousand miles away from home to die in the desert. I'd rather stay here."

"If you stay here, you won't survive the winter. That's what you need to understand."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do. You have a chronic inflammatory lung condition. It can't heal because it's beneath the scar tissue from the bullet wound. Any small infection - a sniffle, a cold - will turn into pneumonia almost at once. You won't survive that. Do you want that to happen?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You could at least try. After all, a slim chance is better than none."

"You think I could survive the thousand mile trip to Arizona? It ain't likely."

Dan didn't answer. He didn't think he could survive a two hundred mile trip.

Jess understood his silence. "Until you come up with something better, I'd just as soon wait it out here."

"I won't let you!"

"How're you goin' to stop me? You can't make me go somewhere I might never get to. I want to stay at home."

"You must get away from this weather. Winter is coming…"

"And I my number is about up."

"Good Heavens, Jess. You're still acting like you want it to be."

"Sure. I'm in hurry to bite the dust after three months of fightin' to get back on my feet! It would've been a lot better to throw in the towel in the first place." He ran his hand over his hair and down the back of his head, then stared at Dan for a long moment without really seeing him. He was exhausted. Finally, he blinked as if he was waking up. He tried to take a deep breath. "Sorry, Dan," he said, his voice quieter. "Instead of arguin' with you about this, I'd need to do some thinkin' about what you've said. Or at least act like I am."

Higgins gave him a searching look, his face full of compassion. "I understand. I don't how I would have reacted in your situation. Probably a lot worse."

"That ain't much comfort." Jess' mouth crooked in a sideways smile that only made the sadness in his eyes seem more intense. "I was pretty sure what you were goin' to tell me when I came in here. I didn't think it would hit me like this."

"It's a hard thing to deal with."

"Is there anything I can do if I don't go to Arizona besides twiddle my thumbs and wait?" Despite his efforts to calm down, there was an angry undertone in his voice.

"There is another possibility, but it has a lower chance of success than going to the Southwest."

"How much lower?"

"It's impossible to be exact. Thirty, twenty percent perhaps."

"That's not very good odds."

"No, but it's still better a better bet than staying here."

"I have to leave Laramie?"

"Yes. But you don't have to go so far away."

"Where?"

"Colorado Springs."

"Why is that any better than here?"

"Two reasons. The climate is drier there in the winter. It's bitterly cold with lots of snow but the air is very dry and very clean."

"What's the second reason?" His dark brows drew together suspiciously, feeling like his doctor was trying to get rid of him.

"I have an old friend there, Jonathan Tyler. He's a doctor, a specialist in lung diseases with years of experience. He's lectured in all the major cities in the East and in Europe. Two or three years ago he opened a treatment center, a sanatorium of sorts, in Colorado Springs. He has wealthy clients who come to him for rest cures but his primary interest is in the miners in the area who suffer from many different kinds of lung disease."

"A sanatorium?"

"Yes."

"A hospital for consumptives," Jess said uneasily.

"Don't get all huffy again! Hear me out!"

"Sorry. Keep on goin'. I'm all ears."

"You're not taking this seriously."

"I take everything seriously at this point."

The doctor took a deep breath of his own and continued. "As I was saying, he's established a sanatorium and had already achieved some notable success. If anyone can help you, it's him. He dealt with serious injuries on the battlefields during the Civil War and then went abroad to study with the best doctors in the Germany and France. He would probably have done a more elegant job on the bullet wound you sustained. Who knows? You might not have had the problem you're having now if he had been your surgeon."

Jess looked at him with a crooked smile. "You did good enough, Doc."

"Thank you." A fleeting smile of his own underlined the doctor's gratitude for this recognition. Jess sometimes had a gruff way of expressing his appreciation but Dan knew he was always sincere.

"In any case," he continued, "I contacted him about you some time ago. He's given me some good advice on your treatment."

"How come you're just now tellin' me about this?"

"I didn't want to worry you or give you inaccurate information. Neither Tyler nor I wanted to jump to conclusions. Your condition is too serious. I had to wait to see how things developed with you so I could give Jonathan a reasonably correct picture."

"So what did he say? That he can't do anything either?"

"He didn't say that. He said he would like to try. Jess, he is really a most capable specialist. I don't have the knowledge or expertise to improve your condition in any way. The only thing I can do for you now is put a bottle of laudanum in your hand so you can numb the pain and know as little as possible about what's going on. Is that what you want?"

"You know I hate that stuff."

"Exactly! It doesn't heal anything. You must realize that it's a miracle you're still alive. Don't throw that miracle away by failing to seize this opportunity."

"I got to think about it first."

"Don't think too long. You don't have much time."

"Damn it! I got to take as much time as I need to think things through and do the right thing! I got to talk to Slim about it - even if he didn't talk to me. And then there's Mike...I mean...I...I got to think about it."

"You can think about it, Jess, but you really don't have much choice. Listen, I don't want to lose a good friend - not this way. You need to decide as soon as possible. You need to decide to go to Colorado Springs."

"How long would I have to be there?"

"It's hard to know."

"A couple of weeks?"

"More like several months. You most likely need to stay over the winter. There must be time for the inflammation to heal completely or there's no point in going."

"For months? I can't do that, Dan. We got a ranch to run. I can't leave Slim with all that work!"

"You're not being realistic. You're not able to help him now. And if you don't go, you'll never be able to help him."

"You already said the odds are against me. Why should I go to all that trouble for nothin'? And how much is it going to cost? You ain't told me anything about that yet."

"No, I haven't. But the cost is no reason not to take this opportunity."

"For you maybe. How much do you think I got in the bank? Not enough for a months-long stay at this sanatorium I probably won't come back from."

"Don't you understand if you don't go you're going to be lying in your grave?" Dan was brutal. Jess seemed to have forgotten how serious his illness was.

"Goin' to Colorado Springs might not change that."

"Why isn't your health not worth the risk and the sacrifice? I always thought you didn't belong to those people who give up because it's the easiest thing to do. And I thought you wanted to be healthy again - not just for own sake but for the sake of the people who are important to you - especially Mike. And now, a fighter like you throws in the towel when difficulties arise. If you don't care about disappointing me, so be it. You're not accountable to me. Do what you want, but remember, others will be disappointed. Mike most of all. Didn't you promise him you'd try anything and everything to get well?

Dan had played his ace in the hole - Mike. Jess' lips tightened to a thin, straight line. "You know how to get to me, don't you?" he said, his voice a low rumble.

"I had no other choice."

Jess stared at the floor like he was staring at the door to hell. "I wish I'd never opened my eyes after that bullet hit. It would've been easier on him. But now… How's he goin' to understand this, Dan?"

"You'll know what to say to him - and Mike can sort it out for himself when you talk to him. Maybe he already understands more than you give him credit for."

"Is there any other way?"

"I wish it were different." He paused a moment to let that sink in, then said, "I need to know your decision about Colorado Springs as soon as possible so I can notify Jonathan."

"You think this is a done deal, don't you?"

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe for you and your doctor friend, but not for me. I can't see much difference between dyin' here or in some hospital except that it'll be faster here. But if I go, Mike won't have to see it. Maybe that'll make it easier for him."

"Now listen, Jess, even if your chances are low it still makes sense for you to go."

"This reminds me of Russian roulette - one bullet, gun to your head, pull the trigger six times. Maybe I should play. It don't sound like such a bad way of passin' the time."

"You think that's a solution?"

"Why not? Not the worse way to go - faster and less painful. I'd make sure I hit the right spot."

"That's nonsense."

"Not really."

"I've always thought of you as a very sensible person. Don't change my opinion now."

"Who knows what pain can make a person do?" I ain't goin' to drown in a laudanum dope dream. I'd rather stay in my right mind."

"Right now you're talking as if you've already lost the fight."

"If I had, I wouldn't be sitting here talking to you about all this. But you ought to know…. I don't wear a gun for decoration - and I won't let anybody take away my right to use it if I decide to."

"You're scaring me, Jess!"

"If you knew how serious I am, you'd really get scared." Jess sat up straighter in the chair. "Forget it, Dan. I'm just thinkin' out loud. Don't worry about it."

"Jess," the doctor said gently, "let me make something clear. I don't want you to go to Colorado Springs to never come back. I want you to go there to get well again."

Jess looked down again. "It would be easier if it weren't for Mike."

"You must not forget the promise you made to him and have fought so hard - and successfully - to keep. You can't give up now, otherwise, you've not only lost the battle at the very end but you've failed to keep your word."

"I'm not sure I got the strength to keep on fightin'. It's gettin' harder - probably because there's no point in it."

"It's never pointless to resist the urge to give up, whether the tide turns negative or positive. I thought you knew that - that it was your outlook on life. Could I really have been so wrong about you? You're no greenhorn. How many times has your resistance won the day, even when things looked hopeless? And you, of all people, tell me you have no strength left because of your current physical weakness? The power for the fight doesn't come from your body but," he tapped his forehead, "from the mind. You just told me how much you value a clear mind. Now is the time to use it."

"Dadgum it, it ain't fair for you to use my own words against me," Jess complained.

A knowing smile crossed Dan's face and his bright eyes rested with benevolent affection and approval on the young man sitting opposite him. Jess had just confirmed in his nonchalant way that he was the fighter the doctor thought he was. "I think you'll make the right decision," he said.

Jess didn't have an answer for that. "Well," he said, hitting the arm of his chair with his fist and getting up, "thanks for tellin' me like it is. I'll think about it."

"Don't wait too long, Jess," Dan said, rising also.

"Anything else I need to do in the meantime?"

"No, nothing you don't already know. Make sure you get enough sleep - and let Daisy spoil you. Avoid poorly ventilated rooms and large crowds of people. But you're doing that anyway."

"Yeah. I've never lived a healthier life, and I've never felt worse."

Dan walked with Jess down the long hallway that led to his waiting room. At the front door, he shook hands with him and said, "I expect an answer soon, Jess."

A wistful, sweet smile flickered across Jess' face. "Thanks, Doc. I'll see you soon," he said and left the office.

The doctor thoughtfully watched him walk away before he closed the door and went to his study where he sat down at his desk and conscientiously wrote the notes of his examination of Jess. More than ever he wished that the medical records he was working on had another name on them, preferably the name of someone he didn't know.

After Jess left Dan's office, he walked toward Laramie's main street. He felt unsettled, almost dazed by the doctor's assessment of his condition and by the advice to go to Colorado Springs for treatment. The future seemed very dark. Jess was sure of only one thing. He was determined to make sure that Mike's future would be secure no matter what happened.

John Wentridge's law office was tucked between the cafe and the general store. Jess made straight for it. Wentridge had helped Jess get guardianship of Mike when the boy first came to the ranch. He would know what needed to be done. Jess spent half an hour talking with him about Mike's legal and financial future. When he left, he felt as if one burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He and Slim would need to come back and sign the papers securing Mike's rights to Jess' portion of the ranch and legalizing Slim's guardianship of the boy should anything happened to him, but Jess was still faced with making the gut wrenching decision to leave home for a very uncertain future of his own.

Jess pulled his hat low over his forehead and headed for Mort Corey's office. Maybe talking to him would help him to see things more clearly.

"Jess!" Mort shouted when he saw him come through the door. "Come on in! You're lucky to have caught me. I was about to go on rounds, then go get some lunch."

"Is this a bad time?"

"No! Not at all! I don't think the town's going to be robbed if I wait a while. I'd rather stay in here where it's warm and talk to you."

"You sure I'm not botherin' you?"

"You know I'm always glad to see you." Mort dropped into his comfortable swivel chair behind his desk. "You look pretty rough."

"I guess I am." Jess took off his hat and sat down, then leaned back and stared up at the ceiling. "You need to paint your office again."

Mort glanced up but then took a sharp look at Jess and frowned. "You didn't come by here just to tell me that."

"No." Jess was talking to the ceiling.

"What's going on, Jess? This isn't like you."

Jess dropped his head and looked intently at Mort, his eyes hard, then made a pretense of a smile. "I guess I ain't so good at pretendin' right now."

"You went to talk to Doc Higgins, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Just a feeling I had."

Jess turned his head away for a moment as if he were listening to something, then he turned back to face Mort, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "That sounds like you already know about it. Do you?"

Mort avoided Jess' piercing blue eyes. "Slim told me about it when he came by last week."

"So everybody knew but me. Have I got that right?"

"Now hold on, Jess. Slim ran into Dan on the street. After he heard what Dan had to say, he had to talk to somebody. He was pretty torn up about it - and Dan made him promise not to say anything to you. You can't blame him - or Doc Higgins."

"So now everybody in town is lookin' at me and wonderin' how I feel about dyin'."

"You got that wrong, boy. Do you really think Slim or me, or Doc, would spread that kind of news around? You know us better than that."

"Yeah," Jess admitted reluctantly, "I guess I do."

"Slim had to talk to somebody who he knew wouldn't run his mouth about what Doc told him. So he came to me." Mort looked long and hard at Jess, waiting for his response but when Jess just kept staring grimly at the floor, Mort added gently, "Just like you've come to me. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Jess finally looked up at Mort. "Yeah, I guess so," he said slowly. "But you already know everything…"

"I doubt that I know everything. Even if I did, you can still talk to me about it. Maybe it would make you feel better."

"Maybe I don't want to talk about it." He stared down at the floor again. "Or if I can… You ever been told you got no chance?"

Mort's mouth tightened and he frowned, trying to think of what he could say. It had been easier to talk to Slim but Jess was right here in front of him, outwardly comfortably slouched in the chair next to the desk but underneath as tense as fence wire. Finally, Mort sighed and said, "No."

"Then it'd be hard for you to understand how I feel."

"You might be right about that."

Jess nodded. After a while, he said, "I've known… or guessed… all along...since the first time I could think about things again. But today… I felt like I'd been punched in the gut when Dan told me." He stopped for a long minute, then said, "Dan told me I should go down to Colorado Springs to see a friend of his… a doctor. He's some kind of expert on lung diseases. The odds are still against me and I would have to stay all winter… Damn it, Mort!" he suddenly snapped. "The more I talk about it, the worst I feel."

"That's easy to understand. I'd be surprised if you felt any other way." Mort couldn't catch Jess' eye - the younger man wouldn't look at him. "What will you do?" he asked gently.

"I don't know." Jess ran his thumb nervously back and forth along the arm of the chair. "Find some peace and quiet - somewhere I can think about everything."

"What do you need to think about?"

"You got to be kiddin'!"

"No, not that I know of. You don't need to think about this Jess."

Now Jess glanced up at him, frowning fiercely. "What'd you mean?"

"You've been given an opportunity - a chance. You need to take it."

"I won't come back from that place! Unless it's in a wooden box!"

"That's nonsense, Jess. You're talking like you've already given up. It doesn't sound like you."

Jess slapped the arm of his chair. "What'd you mean it's not like me? How come I got to be different from everybody else?" he asked angrily.

"Because you are. You're the one who never gives up when everybody else does. Now, when it's about you - when it's for your own sake - you want to throw in the towel."

"You sound like Dan."

"If both of us are saying it, maybe we're right. You better think about that. I always thought you had enough common sense to deal with facts without ducking them."

"Yeah," Jess growled, "Dan thought he had to talk sense into me, too, but what neither one of you understands is I ain't thinkin' about my future - I'm thinkin' about my funeral! I used to think dyin' would be fine with me. But now it ain't fine! I'm not as brave as you all seem to think I am. I'm scared…" He stopped, trying to take a deep breath, then dropped his head, embarrassed by his outburst, "...or maybe I just talk too much…"

"We all get scared, Jess. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

Jess lifted his head and looked at him. "I guess you're right," he said quietly, "but it's not death itself that scares me. I've seen too much of that."

Mort nodded. "I know," he said, glad that Jess seemed calmer. "So what is it?"

Jess paused to take another breath, then let it out. "At first, I was afraid for Mike. But I just talked to John Wentridge and he's drawin' up all the legal papers to make sure he'll be OK. I feel like I got that settled and that he'll be alright. What I'm scared of now is just wastin' away. That's worse that dyin' - dyin' quick, I mean."

"Who says you're going to die? Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?"

"Have you taken a good look at me? And you should've seen Dan's face after he examined me! All his medical talk's gonna give me worse nightmares than I already got."

"Why do I have this feeling you're thinking about a way to solve this problem that has nothing to do with Colorado Springs?"

Jess looked at him, his eyes harder than before.

Mort didn't back off. "If it's what I think it is, it really isn't like you."

"What're you talkin' about?" Jess asked, staring unblinkingly at Mort, his voice toneless and very quiet.

"Come on, Jess. You know what I'm talking about. But I can't believe you would turn that thing…," he nodded at the gun on Jess' thigh, "against yourself. Damn it! I hope not!"

Jess looked down at the Colt and brushed his hand over the walnut leather handle of the pistol. With a flick of his fingers, he pulled the gun out of the holster and aimed it toward the ceiling.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mort said evenly. "Showing me you can do it - or that you're planning to do it?"

"It's a dangerous thing," Jess said, focusing on the gun before he lowered it to rub it against the hairline at his temple. "It can take down anything if you know how to use it."

"Would you quit scratching yourself with that thing?"

"Why? Am I makin' you nervous?" The blue-grey barrel wandered around his forehead a few times as if he were caressing himself with the gun. Then, with a jerk, he yanked the Colt down. "Don't worry," he said, whirling the pistol around on his finger before slipping it back into its holster, "I'm not ready to do anything - but that don't mean I won't, if the time comes."

"You're scaring me, Jess."

"Don't worry," Jess said again. "I won't do it in front of you - or anybody else."

"I am worried, boy. I'm worried about you. When I look at you right now, I see somebody I don't know."

"I didn't think you scared that easy."

"It's not just you I'm worrying about. How about Mike? What will it do to him if you take the easy way out? And Slim? And Daisy? You got to fight this thing with everything you got, Jess. You're thinking too much about dying and not enough about how to keep on living. I know you want to live. Or am I just fooling myself?"

Jess waited a long time to respond, drawing invisible patterns on his forehead with an outstretched finger as he thought about what Mort said.

"You ain't been fooled," he said at last, surprising Mort with a soft but clear answer. He lifted his head and dropped his hand from his face. "I'll think about it. I just don't know if I can do it. I want to take that easy way out - but then I hate myself for even thinkin' about it." His dark brows crinkled in confusion as he looked at Mort. "I even get scared of myself - like I don't know myself any more than you do."

"I can understand after all you've been through."

"That ain't an excuse."

"No. It's a reason. You don't need to make any excuses."

"I wouldn't if I didn't feel so useless."

"Where did you get that idea?"

"It ain't an idea. It's a fact. I get out of breath if I move around and I get bored if I just sit around. Even coming to town feels like it's too much."

"Those sound like pretty good reasons to go to Colorado Springs."

"I don't think I can make it there."

"You have to try, Jess! Nobody thought you'd get this far. Not even me. You can't quit now. Come next Fourth of July we'll be laughing about this."

"I'd like to be able to laugh."

"You'll be the one laughing the loudest."

"I'd like that."

"I know things look bad right now. You've had a hard time and you've got some more hard times ahead of you. But that Texas stubbornness of yours will get you through this. Next July we'll drink each other under the table and have ourselves the worst hangovers in the Territory the next day."

"I wish I was as sure about that as you are. The only kind of celebration I can think of is my own funeral."

"Are you sure you're not making the decision to go to Colorado Springs because you're feeling a mite sorry for yourself?"

"Maybe. I know I ain't thinkin' straight right now…," he flashed a wry grin at Mort, "...but talkin' to you has helped. I need to talk to Slim and see what he says, then I'll decide what I'm goin' to do."

Mort nodded and his weathered face softened in a smile. "You'll do the right thing. You always do." Then he slapped the top of his desk and said, "I'm getting hungry. Are you going to eat in town today?"

"No," Jess said, following Mort's lead. "I'm goin' to pick Mike up at school and we'll go on home. I'll let him do the drivin'." When he got up, he his hand involuntarily pressed against the wound. "Dan did a good job of examinin' me today," he joked.

"Clem will drive you home if you'll let him."

"No, thanks. Mike can handle the horses now. He'll get us there."

"Well then, I'll walk out with you. Where're you heading?"

"Over to Hanson's. The new pump we ordered should be there by now."

"Since I'm supposed to be making rounds anyway, I'll go over there with you. I've been sitting at that desk all morning, writing reports. You know, this job is eighty percent paperwork, ten percent patrols, five percent locking up drunks. No more than the last five percent is real police work."

Jess grinned and reached for his jacket. "Now you see why I didn't take you up on your idea of bein' a lawman. Me and all that paperwork don't get along." He pulled on his jacket, still grinning but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Slim won't let me anywhere near the account books."

Mort laughed and slapped Jess affectionately on the back. "I think you say that just to get out of doing it."

When they got to Hanson's Hardware, they found out the cargo wagon had come but the pump wasn't on it. Only a few tools and a box of horseshoe castings that Slim had ordered last week had been delivered.

"All these castin's mean Slim's goin' to give Pierce some competition - unless Kellington's got the bright idea we ought to take on all the ironwork, too."

"From what I hear," Mort said, "the company wants to cut back on the number of runs this winter."

"That's what we're hopin' for. And not just for the winter. We're thinkin' about reworkin' the franchise anyway. We got enough to keep us busy with the ranch."

"Slim told me you all have been talking about buying that land down near the river."

"Yeah. We're thinkin' about it. Maybe this spring."

Mort was glad to hear Jess talking about the future but all he said to him was, "I'm glad things are going well for you two."

"We aren't where we want to be yet but right now, we're just happy to be debt free."

"You've earned it."

"It's been worth it." Jess unwrapped the reins from the hitching rack and with some effort, climbed into the seat of the wagon. "I better get on over to the school. Mike'll be waitin'."

"When are you coming to town again?"

"Pretty soon, I guess. John Wentridge has some papers he wants me and Slim to sign about Mike."

"See you soon then." Mort lifted his hand in farewell as Jess drove off.

Jess drove over to the school and got there just as the doors opened. Mike came running out, shouting with joy as he raced toward the wagon.

END OF CHAPTER 21


	22. Chapter 22

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 22

When Mike and Jess got home, Mike guided the wagon to the barn where Slim was waiting for them.

"Hey, Slim!" he shouted, braking the wagon. With a child's exuberance, he jumped to the ground and ran around to the rear to unhitch Browny.

"Hey, you two!" Slim replied, not sounding as cheerful as he wanted to but Mike didn't notice that - or the closed look on Jess' face as he climbed down from the wagon.

As Mike led his pony toward the barn, Slim gave Jess a questioning look. Jess petulantly turned away. Despite the pain in his shoulder, he started unhitching the horse. Slim's eyebrows lifted in surprise. When Jess didn't say anything, the rancher shook his head and started unloading the wagon, as silent as his partner.

"The pump didn't come in," Jess said curtly as he led the horses past Slim to the barn.

Slim straightened up holding a box of casings in his hands and glared at him. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothin'!" Jess snapped. "But that ain't what Dan thinks."

Slim grimaced. He made sure Mike was out of earshot, put the box of casings back in the wagon and walked over to the horses where Jess was fiddling with the harnesses, pointedly ignoring his partner.

"Then you know," Slim said. "He...he talked to you about it."

"That's more than I can say about you," Jess growled, yanking so hard on one of the leather straps the horse reared up and threw him off balance. The pain that pierced his chest caused him to stagger against the animal who voiced its displeasure with a loud snort.

"Jess!" With a couple of long strides, Slim was at Jess' side, reaching out to help him but Jess recoiled from his touch and shrank against the horse for support.

"Leave me be!" he said, knocking Slim's hand away.

"What're you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"I'm thinkin' about it."

"Are you out of your mind? You can barely stand up! Let me help you!"

"I don't want your help!"

Deeply hurt, Slim dropped the arm he'd put around Jess' shoulders. "You think trying to kill yourself is the right thing to do?" he asked, his voice as stiff as his face.

"Why not?" Jess' sarcastic response cut like a razor.

Slim's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Why are you acting like this?"

Jess was huddled up against the horse, his hand digging into his chest, his back to Slim. Gathering all his strength, he turned around with a jerk, leaning on the animal so he could stay on his feet. Biting back his pain, he stared at Slim through narrowed eyes with a face full of so much sadness, bitterness and despair that his partner's heart ached for him.

"Is that all you have to say?" Jess snarled.

"What do you want me to say?" Slim roared back at him.

"What do I want you to say? Is that the kind of friend you are now? Tellin' me what I want to hear? Is that how you're goin' to help me now?"

Slim stared hard at him, wanting to defend himself but his anger disappeared as fast as it had come. His face softened. "Damn it, Jess," he said gently, "I'm...I'm sorry. I know I should have...I mean… I wanted to talk to you, but Dan… you know, he wanted me to … I promised not to say anything to you until… It wasn't easy not to tell you. I've never lied to you. But this time... I'm sorry, Jess." He stopped for a moment and took a breath, his sky blue eyes soft with his affection for his partner. "Forgive me?" When Jess didn't say anything, Slim felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Say something, damn it!" he yelled. "Take a punch at me! I deserve it!"

The frozen stare on Jess' face gradually faded. He looked down and rubbed his forehead, feeling like a tornado had ripped through him. "Sure, Slim," he said slowly, confused. "I… I forgive you." His dark brows crinkled as he looked up at Slim. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I... knew somethin' was up and…that you didn't like what was…goin' on…"

"I know, Jess." Slim grabbed his shoulder. This time Jess didn't pull away. "I felt really bad about not talking to you… but Dan…"

"Yeah… He told me."

"You knew something was wrong the other night."

"I knew...there was something you weren't tellin' me…" He searched Slim's face, his own face shadowed with pain. "Would have outright lied to me?"

Their eyes met and held.

"No," Slim said flatly.

"You would have broken your word to Dan?"

Slim was dead serious. "Yes." His grip on Jess' shoulder tightened. "Your friendship means more to me than that. You know that." He bent a little closer to him. "Are we OK now?"

Jess' face softened into sadness. "Yeah..., partner. We're OK."

Slim squeezed Jess' shoulder. "You've suspected what Dan told you all along."

"Yeah... You have, too."

The muscles in Slim's jaw jumped and he nodded. "We both did." He took a deep breath and dropped his hand. "So what now?"

"I don't know." Jess ran his hand over his face. He looked exhausted. "I wish I did," he said hoarsely. "Dan wants me to go to Colorado Springs. "

"What do you want?"

"I'm not sure, not yet. I need to think things over…"

"I'm here if you want to talk. I might not be much help...but I'm here."

Jess gave him a wistful smile. "Thanks, partner. That's one thing I know for sure," he said, "...but don't tell Daisy or Mike anything about this yet."

"You got to talk to them sooner or later."

"I know it. But I got to know what to tell them first." With a lurch, he pulled himself away from the horse he'd been leaning on. "I think I'll leave the rest of the work to you and go to the house."

"You should have done that when you first got home. You've already overdone it. Go on in and lie down for a while."

"Maybe I'll feel better when I get some of Daisy's food in me," Jess said without much enthusiasm and limped away.

Even after lunch, he still felt exhausted. He went up to his room and slept for the rest of the afternoon. He didn't feel much better when he woke up. Twilight was falling outside, but Jess didn't light the lamp. In the darkening room, he lay in bed with his arm under his neck, staring at the ceiling.

He reviewed the conversation with the doctor, the attorney and Mort - and the decision before him. He knew he'd played fast and loose with his life. The raid by the outlaw gang was like of all the other dangerous situations he been in. He'd been lucky until now. The worst part of the whole thing was that he wasn't the only one paying the price. There was Mike, the boy he'd wanted to grow up happy and secure.

So what should he do? If he stayed, he would die before spring came. Going to the Southwest was out of the question. He'd never make it. That left Colorado Springs, a long, expensive journey with low odds of success. The financial burden would drain his resources and would leave Mike with no inheritance. The final choice was taking matters into his own hands and ending his life. Did he really want to do that?

The stage transport of the bank's money popped into his mind. If he rode shotgun, there was a chance he could end his life the way he'd lived it - with a gun in his hand fighting for what was right.

A knock at the door interrupted his dark thoughts.

"Jess? You awake?"

"Yeah," he said and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Come on in, Slim."

"How're you doing?" Slim asked.

"I been thinkin' about things." He fished his boots out from under the bed and started pulling them on. "Sit down for a minute."

Slim pulled up a chair so he could look Jess in the eye. "Shoot," he said.

"I went to see John Wentridge this morning."

"The lawyer?"

Jess nodded.

"You...made your will?" Slim had a hard time asking the question.

"No. He said I didn't need to make one. It was about Mike. Makin' sure he'll be alright if...if I don't make it."

"You know I'll take care of him."

"Yeah, I know. But Wentridge said we need to sign some papers to make it legal - so there'll never be any question about anything."

"Sure, partner. What do you need me to do?"

"Wentridge is drawin' up some documents. He said they'd be ready in a couple of days. We'll both need to go into town to sign them."

"We'll ride in on Wednesday. Maybe we can get the pump at the same time - but now that we got that settled, why don't you get out of this room and come on downstairs? Mike's been asking about you."

"You go on. I'll come down after a while."

Slim didn't like it, but he stood up and pulled his chair back into the corner. "Don't stay up here in the dark too long, Jess. We'll be waiting on you," he said as he left the room.

Jess sat on the bed for a moment, then stood up and walked over to the window. Shoving it open, he leaned out, looking into the twilight. The air was heavy and damp and the hill behind the house was shrouded in a low mist. _"_ _I ought'a pick out some place to be buried,"_ he thought but then he straightened up, tired of being alone. He slammed the window down. With his boots clipping against the wooden floor, he strode toward the door with a renewed sense of determination. If his days were numbered, he wanted to spend them with his family.

Two days later, he and Slim went to John Wentridge's law office and signed the guardianship papers securing Mike's future. After this had been done, Jess became more withdrawn. Even Mike noticed it.

Daisy noticed it, too. She was too good a nurse not to understand what was happening. She was going to lose Jess the way she'd lost her own son in the war. This time she would have to watch the young man she loved suffer and die before her own eyes. This terrible realization drove her to tears every night as she lay in bed trying to go to sleep.

In the days that followed, the sadness every one felt grew worse because no one talked about what was going on. Jess suspected that Daisy knew more than she let on and so did Slim. Mike went about his usual routine of school, chores and play, puzzled and afraid, looking cautiously at the somber adult faces around him, but saying nothing. All members of the little ranch house family were hiding what each one of them knew: death had entered their household that terrible morning months ago and had never left.

END OF CHAPTER 22


	23. Chapter 23

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 23

After dinner on Thursday evening, Slim had a hunch Jess wanted to talk to him. He went into the office to his father's big desk where he pretended to study the account book without really seeing it. He looked up when Jess stuck his head in the door.

"Got a minute?" his partner asked.

"Sure."

Jess slumped down in a high-backed leather armchair near the desk, closed his eyes and didn't say anything. Slim waited.

Finally, Jess ran his hand over his face and scrubbed his forehead before he opened his eyes and looked at Slim. "What am I goin' to do?" he asked.

"Do you think there's one right answer?" Slim said, as lost as Jess was.

"Dan thinks there is. Colorado Springs."

"Do you want to do that?"

"I don't know what I want to do! I can't quit thinkin' about it and I can't make up my mind either. I want to stay here but I want to get it over with and go as soon as I can. But what about Mike? And I can't ask you to do anything else for me." He clenched his fist and hit it on the arm of the chair. "I wish that bullet had killed me the minute it hit me. It would of been better all around."

"Cut it out, Jess," Slim snapped. "You know better than that."

"If you were thinkin' straight, you'd agree with me."

"Then I won't think straight! But I know what Dan thinks! He thinks you need to go to Colorado Springs."

"Does a twenty or thirty percent chance sound like good odds to you?"

"Better than none at all!"

"You know how much it costs?"

"I don't care! The ranch is out of debt. It would be easy for us to get a loan - or sell part of the herd!"

"You know prices are down?" Jess said sarcastically.

"Who cares?" Slim demanded. "Getting you well is what matters! We'll be OK."

"There ain't much left of the 'we' part.' "

"You think I'm going to do all this work by myself? We're partners, aren't we?"

"I ain't talkin' about that. You're goin' to have to get somebody else anyway you look at it."

"That's crazy talk!" Slim frowned furiously. "I can't replace you. Neither can Mike or Daisy."

"You're goin' to have to, sooner or later. Sooner maybe. I might not be here all that long." Jess closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest against the back of the chair.

A chill ran down Slim's spine as he began to understand what was going on in his partner's mind. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you can't do that," he said, his voice tense. "That's not the way to solve this problem."

"If it weren't for Mike, I'd of already done it."

Slim's heart froze. "Damn it, Jess!" he said in desperation. "You're not a hot-headed kid anymore. You have to deal with reality now, not run away from it!"

"I got a pretty good dose of reality these last few couple of months."

"So now you're going to give up?" Slim said in disappointment and disgust - and above all, fear.

"You only give up when you have a choice. I don't have one."

"You do! You can try!"

"I have tried! For months! What's it got me?"

"You're alive!"

"What kind of life have I got? I'm useless and I'm sick all the time. That ain't no way to live."

"You're not useless! Not to me. And what about Mike? Are you useless to him?"

Jess looked down. "No," he admitted, reluctantly.

"Thank God we agree on something!" Slim made an effort to sound reasonable. "You know, I think you're just talking like this because you're trying to make sense of things."

"Maybe." Jess rubbed at his temple and frowned. "I really don't know what to do." He raised his head and looked sheepishly at Slim. "I been thinkin' of ridin' guard on that stage."

"You're out of your mind!" he yelled, reasonableness abandoned.

"Yeah, I know it. But it would be an easy solution."

"That's no solution! You're in no condition to do it - and you could get everybody killed, too! Why're you're thinking like this?"

"I don't know. I…" He grimaced all of a sudden and dug his hand into his chest.

"What the matter?" Slim asked, alarmed. "Are you hurting?"

"Yeah," Jess gasped. "When I talk a lot…" He held his breath and stared at the ceiling, concentrating on it hard to control the pain.

"It's real bad, isn't it?" Slim said leaning closer to Jess, yearning to help him somehow.

"Yeah." He lowered his head and took some short, quick breaths. The spasm was passing. "But this pain ain't the worst of it."

"What're you talking about?" Slim asked.

"It's...it's hard to put into words," Jess said, breathing a little easier. "I got this feelin' something bad is goin' to happen to me - and to Mike, too. And it's not this dadgum thing." He pointed a thumb at his chest. "It's something else. I don't know what."

"Is that why you going in to get Mike at school?"

"Yeah. I don't want him travelin' by himself."

"Why don't you let him ride the stage?"

"That worries me more. I can't explain it."

Slim rubbed his jaw hard, not sure how to answer. "I don't know what to make of it, either," he said finally.

"If I knew what it was," Jess said as if to himself, "I could do something about it."

"What would you do?"

"I don't know!" He said, getting agitated. "If I did, I'd do it."

Slim was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out what was going on with his partner. At last, he said firmly, "There's only one thing I know sure that you should do. You know what it is."

Jess ducked his head. "Go to Colorado Springs."

"You got your heels dug in about it."

"That's ain't so," he said, his face crinkling into the frown of a misunderstood little boy. "I just don't think it's goin' to make any difference. The weather ain't that much different than it is here."

"You're forgetting about Dr. Tyler and his sanatorium."

"I ain't forgot. It's a hospital for consumptives. They'll all be as sick as I am. I hate thinkin' about it."

"When I was in town the other day, I talked to Dan about it again. I don't like you going away any more than you do but Dan is convinced Tyler might be able to help you. He says it's more like a private home and he treats patients more like his guests."

"Sure. Just like goin' on a vacation."

"What's wrong with going on vacation? It can't hurt."

"Why don't you go down there and check it out? You can tell me all about it when you get back."

"I'm not kidding around, Jess."

"Neither am I."

Slim was reaching the end of his rope. "I don't understand what's going on with you!" A look of helpless despair flooded his face. "What's really stopping you from going? I hope it's not money."

"That's some of it. It'll break the bank for nothin'."

"Nothing! It's a chance!"

"Not much of one."

"I can't believe it's a chance you won't take. You've taken plenty of them before."

Jess didn't say anything for a long moment. Then he rubbed his knuckle across his upper lip and admitted quietly, "It's dyin' slow that I'm scared of. We got enough common sense to shoot animals that can't get well, don't we? We don't let 'em suffer for nothin'."

"You're a human being, not an animal! If there's no difference for you, there's one for me - a big one!"

"How about what I want?" Jess asked, his voice low and challenging.

Slim stared at him, deeply shocked. This wasn't like his partner. Had this tragedy changed him that much - or was he just afraid?

The look in Jess' eyes answered Slim's question. It was the same terror that filled them during feverish nightmares after the shooting. But now despair was there, too. Sadness flooded Slim as he looked at the silent cry for help he saw in those familiar blue eyes. He knew Jess was telling him he couldn't make this decision by himself. Now there was only one question left to be answered. Was his partner's fear of a slow painful death greater than his fear of fighting it?

Slim said softly, "What's really stopping you from going?"

"There's no chance. It's just puttin' it off."

"You might win." Slim leaned forward, his hands locked together, his elbows on his knees. By sheer force of his strong will, he held Jess' gaze with his own. "But what if you didn't try? Or if I let you off easy and said you didn't have to go? How do you think I'd feel if you died? It would haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Don't start down that road again."

"I know this is a real bad thing for you to deal with," Slim said. "And it might get worse. But it's bad for me and Daisy, too. And most of all, for Mike." At this, Jess looked down, wrapped in silence. Slim plunged ahead. "What do you think this idea of killing yourself is doing to me? If you did kill yourself, what would it do to Mike and Daisy? It's selfish. You're asking me to stand by and do nothing while you take the easy way out and give up on yourself. You're the one who never gives up! I can't let you do it now Jess. Not you."

His answer was only long, deep silence as Jess stared sullenly at nothing. Then, almost too softly to be heard, he said, "You don't need to say nothin' else. You said it all. More than anybody else would of." He leaned back, closed his eyes again and breathed as deeply as he could. "Maybe you're right." His face crinkled. "Damn it! I know you're right."

Slim's whole body slumped in relief. He let out the breath he'd been holding. "I thought I'd never get through to you."

Jess kept his eyes closed, almost like he was praying, but then he gasped and grabbed his chest. A stabbing pain pulled him back to full awareness.

Now it was Slim's face that crinkled in anxiety and compassion, grief-stricken that he couldn't help his partner.

When the spasm passed and Jess could finally look up, he seemed totally exhausted. "I'm scared, Slim," he grated out.

"I know," Slim said.

"You usually do."

"No argument there."

Jess held Slim's gaze for a moment. "Thanks, partner."

"You're starting to sound like yourself again. For a minute there I thought I'd lost you."

"You ain't goin' to get rid of me that easy." He tried to grin but couldn't quite make it.

"That makes me feel better! If it makes any difference, I'm scared, too."

"It makes a difference," Jess said, his mouth tight.

"Well, alright then. We'll get through this together and see what the future holds."

"If there is a future."

"There's always a future. What it looks like is up to us."

"Seems like I've heard that somewhere before."

Slim eyebrows lifted in an attempt at a teasing smile. "Yeah. I've heard it from you a time or two."

Before Jess could reply there was a knock at the door. Mike stuck his head in the room. "Jess, will you play checkers with me?" he asked.

Jess turned around to look at him. "Well, here's that rascal!" he said with a smile. There wasn't a trace of sadness in him. "Did you bring the board with you?" He grinned at Slim. "He lets me win, you know."

Slim was relieved Jess could still pull it together. He played along. "That's our boy!"

"Say yes, Jess!" Mike pleaded. "Just one game."

"Sorry, Tiger. Not now."

"How about you, Slim?" Mike asked hopefully.

"No, Mike. Jess and I have some talking to do."

"Aww… OK."

"You got all your homework done?" Jess asked.

"You know I have! You helped me with it this afternoon."

"Plumb forgot about that."

"Well, alright," Mike said reluctantly. "I'll go on upstairs and read some. But will you come up and tell me goodnight?"

"You bet, Tiger. And don't go readin' any more books about one-eyed, bloodthirsty pirates!"

"Oh, I won't! I'm reading a book about Sir Christopher! He's a ghost in a castle in Scotland. All the men wear skirts there!"

"That sounds worse than pirates."

"It is! I'll read some of it to you when you come up. But you got to hurry, or I might be asleep."

"Don't worry about that. I'll be there in a minute."

"OK!" He looked over at Slim who'd been smiling as he listened to this conversation. "Goodnight, Slim!"

"Goodnight, Mike. And tell Sir Christopher he better put on some pants so he won't catch a cold!"

Mike made a face and disappeared.

Slim nodded toward the door Mike had left half-opened. "There goes the number one reason you need to go to Colorado Springs."

"And what if I don't come back?"

"If you don't go, you won't be here at all. Do you think you're done as a parent just because you settled things with John Wentridge? Mike needs you. That's why you've got to fight to live. Nobody can take your place, not even me. Even if you lose in the end, you still have to fight for Mike's sake. I've got an idea he's the only reason you're still here anyway. Am I right?"

Jess ducked his head. "Yeah," he admitted. He glanced quickly at Slim before looking away again. "You really think that doctor can help me?"

"I hope to God he can. You've got to give him a chance to try."

"I guess I ain't got much choice, have I?"

"Does that mean you're going?"

"I know I got to. I won't last 'til Christmas here. I've known that for a couple of days now."

"I know you're having a lot of pain."

"Yeah. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but the coughin' is gettin' worse."

"Another reason to go as quick as you can."

The sadness on Jess' face deepened. "If I go," he said slowly, "will you do me a favor?"

"Sure I will, if I can."

"If this Doc Tyler can't help me...and I die down there... Would you bring me home...and bury me here...at the ranch?"

Slim's face tightened. "I don't want to bury you anywhere!" He took a breath, then added reluctantly but gently, "But...if it makes you feel better...sure I will."

"Thanks." Jess sighed. "And promise me something else?" He met Slim's eyes and his voice was stern as he said, "Quit blaming yourself - for anything. And don't ever tell Mike you feel guilty about me gettin' hurt! He wouldn't understand it any more than I do."

It was Slim's turn to look down. "I can't promise that."

"At least don't talk to Mike about it!"

"Alright," Slim said after a moment's hesitation. "But you're talking like you're not coming back."

"That's not what I mean," Jess said quietly. His eyes were dark with grief. "I'm just tryin' to take care of everything because I know I can't do it later. I'm goin' to be fightin' for my life. I don't think I'm goin' to win - but I'm goin' to fight - because of Mike. And you. And Daisy. I just think you're goin' to be disappointed."

"I don't think we will be. We have to get through the next couple of months to see how things are going."

"It won't take that long to know for sure. I don't think I'm goin' to make it."

"I hope you're wrong about that."

"Yeah. Me, too."

"When are you going to tell Dan? Tomorrow, I hope."

"No!"

"Jess! You can't wait any longer!"

"I got to talk to Mike. I don't feel like I can do that right now. Maybe this weekend."

"I hope so! You don't have any time to lose."

"I'll talk to Dan on Monday. And I got to talk to Daisy sometime. She's a nurse and already knows everything anyway. Except for Colorado Springs."

"You got a lot to do."

"That's not the worst part."

"What is?" Slim asked softly.

"Sayin' goodbye to everybody."

"How about just saying 'so long' - not goodbye."

"I think you're wrong about that, partner. I just wish I had it all behind me."

Before Slim could ask him more about that, there was another knock at the half-opened door. It was Daisy. She'd come to ask them if they wanted some coffee but had heard part of the conversation before she could make herself known. She couldn't tear herself away. She'd listened, weeping silently. Finally, it was too much to bear. She gathered herself up and, as miserable as she felt, interrupted them, compelled to break up the tension.

Pushing open the door, she asked as innocently as she could, "Slim? Jess? Would either one of you like a cup of coffee?"

"Thanks, Daisy. Not for me," Slim answered.

"Me, neither," Jess responded.

"I hope I didn't interrupt something important," she said with false brightness.

"No, we're just talking," Slim said.

"I was about to go up and say goodnight to Mike, anyway," Jess said, pushing himself out of the chair.

"You look tired, Jess. Are you alright?" Daisy asked, unable to disguise the worry in her voice.

"I'm fine," was Jess' clipped reply, but he touched her arm as he walked past her. "It'll be OK," he said softly.

Confused, Daisy watched him walk out of the room. "Jess! What's wrong?" she called after him, suspecting he somehow knew she'd been listening.

"Nothin'. Just stiff from sittin' too long," he answered and started climbing heavily up the stairs. He had a feeling he'd waited too long and Mike was already asleep.

After he left, Daisy turned immediately to Slim. "Please tell me what's wrong with him!"

Slim had grabbed the account books and was making a pretense of studying them. "You heard him. He's OK."

"Are you sure?" She checked over her shoulder to make sure Jess was gone and moved closer to Slim. "That's not what I heard just now."

"Heard about what?" he said, not wanting to be pinned down.

Daisy wanted to smack him but she restrained herself. "Slim, the door was partly opened. I couldn't help overhearing…" Her voice started to shake. "I heard… I...wish I hadn't."

Slim sat back, resigned. "Then you know."

She nodded, tears running down her face. Then she collapsed in the chair Jess had just vacated and started sobbing.

Slim got up, came over to sit on the armrest of the big chair and drew her close. "Don't cry, Daisy. That's not going to help anybody."

"It helps me!" She blew her nose hard on the little handkerchief she carried in her sleeve "I have to get used to the idea that…" Her voice broke again, and she buried her head against his side, weeping.

He understood how she felt and held her as she cried it out. Finally, she blew her nose again and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she gasped, trying to calm down. "I didn't mean to let go like that. But...but it's just too much…"

 _"_ _I could cry, too,"_ Slim thought, taking a deep breath, _"if men could cry."_ Out loud, he said, "I know, Daisy. It's OK. What makes me feel so bad is that Jess has known all along and hasn't had anybody to talk to about it."

Daisy looked up at the big man by her side and put her hand gently on his arm. "What exactly did the doctor say? Will Jess… I mean, is he…. Is he going to die?"

Slim's voice shook a little when he answered. "Dan says if he stays here…he'll die for sure."

"What do you mean…'if he stays here'?"

"The weather has turned too wet and cold. Dan said that a better climate might help. But if he stays here, he won't make it."

Daisy's hand bit into Slim's arm. "Oh, Slim… I heard you mention Colorado Springs. Is that where the doctor wants him to go?"

"Yeah."

"But it's cold there in the winter, too!"

"I know, but the air is dryer and cleaner. And Dan has an old college friend, Jonathan Tyler, who specializes in lung diseases. He has a sanatorium down there. Dan said if anybody can help Jess, it's Tyler."

"Then he must go at once! He will go, won't he?"

"I think so - but he really doesn't want to."

"In heaven's name, why not?"

"I'm not sure, Daisy." Slim's shoulders twitched a little. "There's no good reason, except…" He couldn't finish the sentence. To his surprise, Daisy did.

"...he had rather die here. Is that...is that what he's thinking about?"

Slim's jaw clenched. He nodded. "I think so. He made me promise…"

Daisy stopped him. "I heard it. Please don't say it again."

Slim suddenly rallied. "Maybe we ought to be more hopeful about all this," he said. "He'll be fine if he follows the doctor's advice and goes to Colorado Springs."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I'm trying to."

"I understand how Jess feels. I'm afraid, too. Jess knows he can't get well, even in Colorado Springs. If he goes there...he won't come back."

"Damn it, Daisy! You're sounding just like him!"

"I'm sorry, Slim. But I know for certain he's terminally ill. I've seen death coming before. I know the signs. I was hoping Jess could overcome it but he's getting weaker every day. The only reason he's going to Colorado Springs is to spare us."

"You might be right. But maybe Doctor Tyler can help him. At least he might make it easier on him. He's wasting all his strength here trying to hide how bad he feels."

"I know. He's in terrible pain…" Suddenly, she drew herself up, squaring her shoulders, "Perhaps, Doctor Tyler can help him, Slim! He has to get well! He must! Mike needs him. We _all_ need him!"

"I know I do. He's a part of this place - a part of me. I don't want to lose him."

"Can't we help him somehow?"

"I think the only thing we can do is not make things harder for him. It's bad enough for him right now." He looked at her, his eyes filled with pain. "It's real bad, Daisy."

"I know, Slim. It's hard on all of us."

"I wonder how Mike's going to deal with this."

"I heard you say you had been to see John Wentridge…"

"...about guardianship papers in case he…" Slim choked, unable to finish the sentence. "Everything's been settled. That's one thing we don't have to worry about."

"Is that why you went to town this morning?"

"Yeah. We both had to sign some papers to make sure Mike could stay here in case...Good God, Daisy!" Suddenly Slim was flooded with rage. He jumped up from the armrest and started stomping up and down the room, coming to a stop at the dark window. "Why are we talking about this? Jess is going to be OK! He'll come back from Colorado Springs! He can't just dump everything on me so he can go off to die in peace at Tyler's sanatorium!"

"Slim!" Daisy stared at him aghast. "How can you say such a thing?"

"I…" He bit back the angry response on the tip of the tongue, his whole jaw clamping down like a vise in the effort. Then he abruptly turned back toward her and seemed to collapse a balloon losing all its air at once. "Sorry," he rasped. His face crumpled and he ran his hand through his hair. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You're very tired, Slim," she said, wringing her hands.

"That's no excuse!" he said, slamming both fists on the desktop, making the books and papers jump.

"Jess has been through a lot - but so have you. You're carrying the burden for all of us. Don't be too hard on yourself. Feeling guilty just makes things more difficult for everybody, especially for Jess."

Slim couldn't look at her. "Sometimes this feels like a nightmare we can't wake up from. It's not real."

Daisy came to stand beside him and laid her hand gently on his arm. "We must remember that as long as Jess is alive and willing to fight for his life, there's hope, no matter how dark things look right now. I know I sounded very pessimistic a little while ago, but that's probably because I saw so many terrible things during the war. Knowing too much is not always an advantage." She tightened her grip on his arm and looked at him even though he refused to look at her. "There's one thing I know for certain. I will never give up on Jess. He means too much to me - and to you."

Her last words finally got through to him. He stared at her like she was a ghost but then his face softened. He patted her hand on his arm and tried to smile. "You know what he means to me better than anybody else. I can't lose him like this."

"You haven't - we haven't - lost him. I pray we never will."

"Maybe I better start praying, too."

"I believe you already have." She smiled sadly at him, her eyes glimmering with tears. "Two voices are better than one."

"Sure they are…" He smiled a little, too, and his hand tightened on hers. "But don't let Jess know that you know what's going on until he tells you himself."

"It won't be easy for me but for his sake, I will."

"There ain't no reason for anybody in this house to keep a secret," a quiet, familiar voice said behind them.

Startled, both Slim and Daisy turned around. Jess stood at the door, pale and haggard in the light of kerosene lamp.

"Jess!" Daisy cried. She hurried over to him. "I...we wanted… It's not what you think!" She grabbed his arm with both of hers.

"It's alright, Daisy," he said. "I ain't mad." He put his arm around her. "I'm glad you know. Now I don't have to find a way to tell you."

"Oh, Jess dear. This is so terrible! I'm so sorry this is happening."

"It was bound to happen one day. I just wish it would get over with. It would be easier on everybody."

"How can you say that?" she said, horrified.

"It's the truth."

She pulled away from him to look at him intently. The strange glint in his eyes made her very uneasy. "You're going to follow the doctor's orders and go to Colorado Springs, aren't you?"

"I don't think it'll do any good but I'll go for Mike's sake."

Slim was propped against the desk with his arms folded across his chest. "Did you talk to him about it?"

"Not tonight."

"The sooner, the better."

"I know it, damn it! You don't have to keep reminding me! It ain't an easy thing to do."

"I just don't want you to 'forget' it."

"You're real funny, ain't you?" Jess snapped.

"Stop acting like silly school boys!" Daisy demanded. "And I mean both of you!" she added - but she was looking at Slim. "This is no time for bickering!" She turned back to Jess who seemed to have been energized by the sharp exchange. Her voice softened. "Slim's right, dear."

"I got to figure this out my own way, Daisy."

"Of course!" Daisy said quickly. "You don't need to get upset by it."

"Who's upset?" he demanded with a glare.

"Jess! Please!"

For a moment, Jess' angry blue eyes seemed to be mocking her, even laughing at her. Then he suddenly he dropped his eyes, ashamed. He rubbed his hand across his face. "I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, Daisy. I don't know what's got into me."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she said lovingly. "This has been too much for all of us - but we're all going to face this together. It won't be easy but we'll get through it. Jess, you'll go to Colorado Springs and everything will be fine. You'll see. You're going to be well again! I know it!"

"I'll be gone a long time."

"It doesn't matter how long it takes! The main thing is for you to be healthy again!"

He looked at her sardonically. "I thought you'd know better than that - being a nurse and all."

"Oh, fiddle dee to my experience! When you were first wounded, my experience told me you would never open your eyes again."

"It would've been better if I hadn't."

"Don't be cynical! Don't you believe you can get better?"

"Don't mind him, Daisy," Slim groused. "He's just wallowing around in self-pity again," he added before stomping over to the window to look out at the darkness.

"You stay out of this!" Jess snarled.

Slim raised both arms and dropped them but didn't say anything.

"Don't we have enough problems without you too acting like this?" Daisy begged.

"I'm the one with a problem, not you!" Jess growled, entangled in his own bad temper again.

"Jess!" she cried. "Why are you speaking to me like that?"

"Because I'm dyin'!" he bit back. "I can talk any way I want to."

Without turning around, Slim barked out an order. "You can talk to me like that but not to Daisy! Hold yourself together!"

Jess' glare burned a hole as big as a grizzly paw in Slim's back. He turned abruptly and stomped to the door.

"Where are you going?" Daisy cried.

"I need some fresh air!"

Slim turned around. "Wait a minute! I'll come with you."

"No!" Jess snapped and kept on walking.

"Jess…"

Slim's voice stopped his partner but he didn't turn around. He ducked his head. "Slim, please…" His wounded shoulder twitched involuntarily. "I...I need to be alone for a while."

"You can be alone here in the house!"

"I said I needed some fresh air!"

Daisy jumped back in. "Slim is right, Jess! It's cold and wet outside. It would be bad for you!"

"I can't be much worse off than I am now," he growled.

Slim changed his tune. "Let him go, Daisy. He's too hard-headed to talk to."

"That goes for you, too!" Jess barked.

"Thanks for the compliment!"

"I'm glad we can agree on something!" Jess called back as he headed for the front door where he strapped on his gun belt and struggled into his jacket. "I'll be back after a while," he said, calming down. "I'm just walkin' to the gate and back and checkin' on things in the corral."

"You better be back in fifteen minutes!" Slim bossed. "If you're not, I'm coming after you."

"You better be careful, then. I get jumpy in the dark. I wouldn't want to make a mistake and take a shot at you in the fog."

"Now I know you're out of your head," Slim said in a surprisingly calm voice. "I just don't trip on a rock and break your leg."

"Not a bad idea!"

"Mule headed, stubborn…" Slim grumbled as his partner walked out the door.

"Do something, Slim!" Daisy said, wringing her hands.

"What am I supposed to do? Tackle him and drag him back?"

"Don't talk nonsense! Go after him! He'll catch a death of a cold out there!"

Slim actually managed to smile. "Try not to worry so much about him. He's not that bad yet. I can't follow him everywhere. He knows what he's doing."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as you can be where Jess is concerned."

"You can say what you want to, but he's acting so strangely. He's changed."

"Yeah, I know. All this is getting to him."

"Do you think he's upset because I overheard your conversation with him?"

"No." He smiled at her in earnest now, wanting to reassure her. "I think he's relieved he didn't have to tell you himself. Don't worry about it."

Daisy wasn't sure he was just telling her that to calm her down or if he really meant it, but one thing was clear to her - Slim wasn't as confident as he pretended to be.

END OF CHAPTER 23


	24. Chapter 24

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH  
**  
CHAPTER 24

The next morning Jess paced back and forth by the corral fence as he waited for Slim to hitch up the wagon so he could get into Laramie to pick up Mike at school.

"Can't you hurry it up?" he growled.

"Simmer down," Slim told him. "It's only ten o'clock. You got plenty of time."

"Just get on with it." He clenched and unclenched his black gloved hand. "Remember that bad feeling' I told you about last night? It's back double-time today. I need to get into town pronto."

"Maybe it's just because your shoulder is hurting...or are you worrying about talking to Mike?"

"That ain't it!" He caught Slim's doubtful expression. "And don't look at me like that! I can't explain it. Just get a move on with those horses!"

Slim shook his head, jerked a strap to tighten it and straightened up.

"Since you're set on going early, how about going by Hanson's again and checking on that pump?"

"Sure. Anything else?"

"No. Unless Daisy wants something."

"She does." Jess reached into his pocket and pulled out the shopping list Daisy had given him little earlier. "If you unfold the thing, it's as long as my hand."

"She just went shopping last week!"

"You know Daisy."

Slim laughed. "I sure do." He checked on the harnesses one more time, then straightened up. "Be care on the road. It's pretty muddy."

"I think I'm still able to handle a team of horses."

"You better!" Slim joked.

Jess hoisted himself into the wagon seat. "See you later," he said and flicked the reins to set the horses in motion.

Slim was right. The muddy road made the trip to Laramie rough going. It took Jess well over an hour to get there. His first stop was at Burke Herschel's General Store where he dropped off Daisy's shopping list and parked the wagon before walking over to Hanson's Hardware to ask about the pump. The clerk assured him it would definitely come in today. The supplier in Cheyenne had sent a telegram confirming shipment.

"About time!" Jess grumbled as he turned to leave. "The wagon is hitched over at the General Store," he said and slammed the door hard enough to jangle the bells on his way out.

Out on the street again, he heard the church clock sound out the time. It was a quarter to twelve. He thought about paying Mort a visit but he was too restless to sit around and talk. He stood on the wooden sidewalk, staring at the street. There was nothing unusual about the Thursday morning traffic but Jess was on high alert. He felt a sense of danger he couldn't explain. _"I really must be going loco," he_ thought to himself as he slowly made his way toward the school, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

In the pasture near the school house, the children's ponies were grazing peacefully but Jess' sharp eyes probed the bushes and examined each horse as if he were deciding on which one to buy. He couldn't find a reason for his increasing wariness but he didn't dismiss it either. He was just glad he was close to Mike in case he had to protect him. As he waited by the pasture gate, he even ignored Browny who came looking for the lump of sugar that Jess usually gave him.

He didn't have to wait long. Miss Finch let the children out an hour early. Her official explanation for this treat was their especially good behavior. The real reason was her desire to go visit a friend. Her students didn't care either way - they were happy to be getting an early start on an extra-long weekend break.

Mike was the first one out of the door. He spied Jess immediately and ran across the schoolyard toward him, dashing past Miss Finch who stood at the schoolhouse door supervising her exuberant students as they raced outside. Looking up she saw Jess standing by the fence watching her, his vigilance temporarily forgotten. He nodded, a slow dip of his head, his eyes never leaving hers. She flushed and nodded in return, then quickly refocused on the rowdy children, hoping they hadn't noticed the redness in her cheeks - or the sudden racing of her heart.

Even Mike didn't succeed in getting Jess' full attention. "Hey, Jess!" he yelled, flying up to him. "You're already here!"

"I promised you I would be," he said, still looking at Miss Finch.

Mike followed his gaze then beamed up at his foster father. "She's real nice for a teacher!"

"You rascal!" Jess grinned and ran his hand teasingly over the boy's hair. "Get a move on! You want to go see Sheriff Corey at the jail don't you before we go home?"

"We can go see the Sheriff? Really?"

"Sure. Mort don't know about his good luck yet, but he'll find out quick enough."

Mike saddled his pony in record time and ran out of the pasture pulling Browny behind him to catch up with Jess.

"We got to go to the General Store first," Jess said as they walked toward the main street. "That's where the wagon is. And we need to go over to the hardware store. The pump's finally supposed to be there. Are you hungry?"

"Not much."

"That's a first." Jess threw his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Maybe Burke will have a sandwich or something we can eat. We might have to wait a while at Hanson's."

"That's OK. I can wait until we get home."

"Aw, come on! Let's see what Burke's got to eat."

"OK, if you want to," Mike said, his appetite increasing.

"I knew it!" He ruffled the boy's blond hair. "I'd of been mighty disappointed if you'd said anything else."

Mike squinted up at him to see if he was serious. "You're pullin' my leg!"

"No, I ain't! You'd pull back too hard!"

Burke had some good sandwiches already made up, and Mike couldn't resist. He devoured one with cold chicken slices on it. "What do you think Daisy fixed for lunch today?" he asked after he'd finished it off.

"I don't know but she always has something good. Why're you askin'? You want somethin' else?"

"How about some dessert?" Burke suggested from behind the counter, holding up a large candy jar for Mike to see.

Bright-eyed, Mike looked expectantly at Jess.

"It's your stomach, not mine," was Jess' only comment.

Mike ran to the counter and pulled something sticky out of the glass jar. "Thank you, Mr. Herschell!"

"I better get you out of here before you want one of those sour pickles," Jess said, watching him.

"Can I have one? Really?" Mike said, smacking on his candy.

Jess rolled his eyes. "That's something only a young'un like you can get down."

"It's good! Want to try one?"

"No!" Jess said, heading for the door. "Come on. We better go."

They climbed into the parked wagon that had been loaded with Daisy's groceries. Browny was tied to the back.

"Can I drive?" Mike asked.

"Later. I'll get us over to Hanson's."

"Are you...are you hurting again?" Mike asked, suddenly so worried about Jess he swallowed the lump of candy in his mouth.

"No. And I want to keep it that way. That's why I'll let you drive on the way home." He grinned at Mike as the boy licked his sticky fingers. "You ought to wash those fingers or you're goin' to get stuck on everything you touch."

Mike elbowed him gently in the ribs and grinned back at him as Jess turned the wagon to head toward Hanson's. Despite all the banter with Mike, he was still vigilant and alert to danger even though everything in town seemed normal.

When they got to the shop, Mike jumped off the wagon. Tired of the stickiness, he washed his hands off in the horse trough while Jess asked about the pump and found out that the delivery was running late. It wouldn't arrive for another hour.

"Where's the pump?" Mike asked him when he came back to the wagon.

"It's not here yet," Jess said without looking at the boy. With his back to the shop, he searched the street in front of him, his hand hovering over his Colt. There was nothing there. He looked up, scanning the rooftops, but all he saw was a milky sun trying to break through wind-shredded clouds. Underneath his bandage, the wound tingled like a colony of ants were crawling around on it.

"What's the matter?" Mike asked, looking up at him.

Mike's question jerked Jess' attention back to the boy. "Nothin'," he replied, struggling to give him a smile. He didn't have any idea how to answer the question.

"You're hurting, aren't you?"

"Nah. Don't worry," he said because the sensation he was feeling wasn't like his ordinary pain. A frisson of intense wariness was coursing through his body. He couldn't have felt more uneasy if a fireball had fallen out of the sky and was rolling toward him. He put his put his arm around Mike and said, "Let's go on over to see Mort. The pump won't be here for an hour."

As they headed for the Sheriff's office, Jess was acutely aware of everything around him. Through slightly narrowed eyes, he searched every doorway, every corner, every window, the balconies and the roofs. There was no outward sign of danger, but there hadn't been any when he was shot down on his own doorstep either.

Mike walked beside Jess, glancing up at him now and then to make sure he was alright. In an attempt to get his attention he asked, "When we get to the jail, will you play you're a prisoner and let me lock you up?"

"Are you planning' to lose the key?"

"No!" Mike said, insulted. "I promise!"

"I ain't trustin' you unless Mort gives me a second key."

"You're mean!" he said, giving Jess a little punch in the side.

"And you're a roughneck! I'm going' to have a couple of bruises right next to each other. When Doc Higgins looks me over again, he's going' to think somebody's been beatin' up on me!"

"You're kidding aren't you?" Mike asked anxiously. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Yeah, I'm kiddin', Tiger," Jess said, smiling down at him.

When they reached the building at the corner of the main road, Jess stopped in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked in alarm.

"I don't know," Jess said very quietly. He seemed to be listening to something only he could hear.

His eyes narrowed and shifted to his left, searching the town. The street was mostly empty, the shops closed for lunch. On the sidewalks, a few idlers sat around in the meager sunshine, talking to each other to kill time.

Suddenly, Mike grabbed Jess' arm with both hands, and using all his strength, yanked him backward. Caught off balance, Jess staggered into the side street, almost falling to his knees from the pain that Mike's jerk set off in his shoulder.

"What's wrong with you?" he gritted out, pulling out of Mike's throttling grip on his arm and digging his hand into his shoulder.

"Come on!" Mike cried hysterically. He grabbed Jess' arm again and pulled him away from the main road with all his might. Jess stumbled back another few feet.

"Stop, damn it!" he yelled. Bending double, he gasped for air until the pain eased a little.

Mike's eyes were wide with horror. "I didn't mean... to hurt you...but I...I saw him!"

"Who?"

"Him!"

"What's got into you?" Jess growled, still struggling for breath. "Who did you see?"

"Him!" The boy was shifting from foot to foot in a terrified dance and was barely able to speak.

Jess grabbed Mike's shoulder and shook it. "Simmer down!" he snapped, but when he took in the boy's ashen face, he tried to calm himself down. Still breathing heavily, he asked more gently, "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's him… The man!"

"What man?" Jess said insistently as a nightmarish idea began to form. "What man, Mike?" he repeated.

"...the man… the man who...shot you! That man!" Mike choked out, distraught, paralyzed with terror and near to tears.

Jess' face went blank, the pupils of his eyes shrinking to two dark pinholes. "Are you sure?"

Mike nodded, his eyes wide, his mouth opened. He wanted to take Jess' hand and run away as far and fast as they could go - run anywhere to get away from the man he'd seen!

But Jess didn't move. He grew as still and quiet as a rock in a stream. "Where is he?" he asked, his voice calm, chillingly cold.

Mike was still rigid with fear. When he didn't answer, Jess shook him gently. "It's OK, Tiger. He's not goin' to hurt you - or me. But you got to tell me where he is so he can't surprise me again."

"No! He'll kill you!"

"No, he won't. This time I'll know where he is. But you got to tell me!"

"Please, Jess. Let's run away! He'll see you and …"

"Mike!" Jess said urgently. "He's not waitin' for me! He's in town for some other reason. It's not goin' to be like the last time! But you gotta help me! Tell me where he is."

"He… he..." Mike swallowed hard and ran his hand over his wet face. "He's sitting across from the Sheriff's office. He's sort of down this way….on the other side of the street."

"Where exactly?"

"I...I don't know...not far from here."

Jess pictured the town in his mind. "The bank…," he said out loud. "Mike! Is he in front of the bank?"

"I'm...not sure. It happened so fast…."

"Was the other man with him?"

"Just him, but… maybe the other one is there, too. They'll kill you!"

"That's not goin' to happen. I promise."

"Please don't go out there! He'll see you!" Mike cried and grabbed his hand again.

Jess shook him off. "It'll be OK, Mike! Be quiet and stay where you are!" he ordered in a voice Mike didn't dare disobey.

Jess edged up to the building at the corner of the street and eased around it to look toward the bank.

A man in a sloppy hat and tattered clothes slouched on a bench by the bank's front door. He looked like an ordinary drunk hanging around in the shade under the boardwalk's roof, hoping somebody would give him enough money for a beer but Jess recognized from the posters. It was Hal. He'd seen that profile weeks earlier on the rider he spotted in the mirror at Toni's Barber Shop. He'd had a bad feeling about him then. Now he felt downright careless for not having checked the guy out. Hal had probably been in town that day memorizing the location of the bank and the sheriff's office to set up the robbery.

Jess was caught between a grudging recognition of the man's brazenness and a desire to pull out his gun and shoot him now. His right hand fell gently on the walnut handle of his Colt - but unlike the outlaw, he had a conscience. He thought hard about what he could do. He knew the other members of the gang had to be nearby. He couldn't take them all by himself. They were probably already inside the bank or on their way there.

It wasn't a coincidence that the gang had chosen this day to replenish their dwindling money supply. It was Friday and ranchers and businessmen were depositing their profits. The money to be transported to Cheyenne was in the bank, too. The vault was filled to the brim. Now all Hal and his friends had to do was get their hands on it. True to form - and Jess' prediction - they would make their play in broad daylight right under the nose of the law. Mort would be in the direct line of fire the minute he stepped out of his office. Now Jess understood his foreboding of the last couple of days. Whether he'd unconsciously reasoned it out or had intuited it in some mysterious way, he'd been aware of their presence in the area and had gone on high alert.

He looked up and down the street, glad that it was almost empty. With fewer people in harm's way, it would be easier to stop the three outlaws without creating a bloodbath. He knew he still had to get help and the best help available was Sheriff Corey but how could he get to him? Hall would recognize him immediately if he walked to the office's front door.

Jess backed away from the edge of the building and walked over to Mike, who hadn't moved a muscle, partly because of Jess' orders and partly because he was frozen with fear. The nightmare of that Tuesday morning months ago was happening all over again - except this time, Jess was here with him.

"Did...did you see him?" he stammered, his throat so dry he could barely speak.

"Yeah, I saw him," Jess said calmly, even casually, easing Mike's tension a little. "You were right. He's sitting' near the door of the bank across the street from Mort's office."

"Did...he see you?"

"No. Don't worry. Because you warned me, I won't be surprised again."

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Mike whimpered, getting tearful again.

"Not as much as I would've been if you hadn't yanked me back. You probably saved my life."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Then why didn't you go ahead and shoot him?" Mike asked, recovering enough to sound angry and confused.

Jess knew he had no time to waste, but he also knew he had to deal with the boy's fear if things were going to work out the way he wanted them to. "You really want me to do that?" he asked.

Mike stared at him, then let his gaze move down to the gun on his thigh before looking up again and meeting Jess' blue eyes that were patiently looking back at him.

"I…," was all the boy could get out.

"If I shot him from ambush, I wouldn't be any better than he is."

"But he's a bad man! He'll…"

"He's not doin' anything bad right now. He's just sittin' there. I don't have a right to shoot him in cold blood, no matter what."

"But...but…"

"But nothin'!" Jess caught him by the shoulders and pulled him down the side street. "Come on. We need to get movin'."

"Where're we going? Are you going to let him just sit there?"

"I can't do anything right now. Something could happen to you when the fightin' starts. And I need help to take on all three of them."

Just before they got to Hanson's shop, Jess turned right into a small alley that ran behind the buildings on the main road.

"Where're we going?" Mike asked again, more confused than ever.

"Where we were goin' before," Jess answered pushing the boy along, making sure he had him covered if anything happened.

"To the sheriff's office?"

"Yeah."

"But this is the wrong way!"

"We're goin' behind the buildings so we can go in the Sheriff's back door, but there's one tricky spot where he could see us. You gotta trust me and do what I tell you to."

"What're we going to do if the Sheriff isn't in his office?" Mike asked fearfully, but at least he was running on his own now.

"Don't ask me," Jess said, willing himself to push past the pain in his shoulder. "Let's hope he's there."

They turned the corner leading to the main street, then reached the three or four-foot gap they needed to cross between the corner building and the rear of the jail. Jess stopped, breathing heavily, digging his hand into his wounded shoulder.

"Are you OK?" Mike asked, clinging to his jacket.

"I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

"You're hurting a lot!"

"Not that bad." Jess clenched his teeth and forced himself to straighten up. "We're almost there." He made an effort to give the boy a smile but he wasn't as confident as he seemed to be as he risked a look around the corner into the street. Hal was across the street directly opposite him, still squatting on the bench, his head shaded by his floppy wide-brimmed hat. He was scraping at his fingernails with the tip of his knife. Even though he seemed busy grooming himself, Jess knew he wasn't neglecting his duty. He would have shot a stray dog in a heartbeat if he'd been surprised by its shadow.

"We got an advantage," Jess told Mike over his shoulder. "When he looks up, he's got the sun in his eyes." The pain in his shoulder had eased a little. He was ready to go. "You stay right beside me so I can cover you if he does see us." Jess took one last look at Hal and then looked back at Mike. "You ready?" Mike nodded, mute. "I'll count to three," Jess said in a no-nonsense voice. "We'll walk over, not too slow but not running either. Stick close to me, OK? Here we go…"

Mike blindly followed Jess across the gap, terrified but doing exactly as he said. In two seconds they were on the other side, hugging the wall of the jail and quickly making their way to the building's back door.

Jess knocked insistently against the heavy barred door. He had to knock a second time before the viewing flap lifted. Mort's bewildered face peered out of it.

"Jess! What the hell are doing back here?" he asked in astonishment.

"Just shut up and let us in!"

"What's going on?" he asked as he swung the door open.

"Close the door and lock it! Hurry up!" Jess said curtly, pushing Mike into a jail cell. "You stay there!" he told him and strode toward the front of the office.

'What's this all about?" Mort demanded.

"Look out the window but don't go up to it. The man on the bench…."

Mort squinted, looking where Jess told him to. He stared for a minute. His gaze shifted over to one of the wanted posters on the office wall, then back to the man on the bench. "That could be…"

"It is him."

"Did you recognize him? Can you remember seeing him?"

"No. Mike spotted him - it's him."

Mort's face clouded over with anger. "He's squatting there like a sitting duck." He pulled his gun. "All I have to do is go get him."

"Hold on, Mort!" Jess grabbed him. "That guy ain't afraid of your badge. The minute you stick your nose out the door, he'll blow it off."

"Maybe I can get the drop on him."

"I don't think so. The other two are around somewhere. Maybe already in the bank or on the way here."

"So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here while they ransack the town?"

"Look, Mort. We got to wait until all three of them are together. We don't stand a chance until we know where the other two are. And we got to think about the people in the bank that could get caught in the crossfire. We know Majors and the cashiers are in there. If I'm right, he's not alone. He's passin' the time cleanin' his nails but when he stands up they'll make their move. We'll go after them then."

"I can't let you be part of it, Jess. You're in no shape."

"You can't stop me. I got a lot of scores to settle. And I got no trouble usin' this gun right handed."

"The way you look, I can tell what I think doesn't matter." He went to the gun cabinet and got out a Winchester and some ammunition. "You want one of these?"

"No. I only got one hand. But I'll take some bullets."

The sheriff threw a box of forty-five cartridges at him. Jess caught them and dumped the ammunition in his jacket pocket without taking his eyes off Hal.

"Anything happening out there?" Mort asked, loading his Winchester.

"He's finished his manicure."

"Has he seen you?"

"No. He wouldn't be sittin' there if he had."

Mort took a hard look at him. "Are you sure you're up to this?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't believe it, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Let it be, Mort. Let's get this done."

Mort came over to Jess and took another look out of the window. "Good thing most folks are at lunch."

"Where're your deputies?" Jess asked.

"Phil's gone to Etham Junction to look into a theft there, and Clem has the day off. He's not on duty until tonight."

"Don't he ever work?"

"He likes to sleep late, so I let him take the night shift." Mort was getting restless. "Something better happen soon. I'm tempted to take him out right now."

"Does Majors' bank close for the weekend?"

"Not always."

"If the cashiers are still there and the vault is opened, they're easy pickings. Did you see anybody comin' in or out?"

"I haven't noticed. I don't even know if Majors came in today. Have you noticed there are no horses near the bank?"

"They probably have them waitin' at the door on the side near the alley."

"I wonder how he's planning to handle the getaway."

"I don't know, but I guess we'll find out."

Jess' eyes were the only part of him that was moving. He looked completely relaxed, his hand resting lightly on his revolver.

"Are you going after Hal?" Mort asked.

"No!" came the quick, hard reply.

"That's good because otherwise, I'd have to lock you up." Mort was half-serious. "It's a good thing you came when you did. I was about to make noon rounds and would have walked right into him."

"Our friend over there wouldn't of let you get very far."

"You're right. I owe you my life."

"Mike's the one who spotted him. He saved both our hides." Jess' emaciated figure straightened. "Something's happenin'".

Hal had gotten up. Appearing to be bored, he ambled down the steps into the street then walked over to stand looking down the alley at the side of the bank, his back toward the sheriff's office. Two horsemen, evidently no hurry, came toward him out of the side street, one of them leading a single horse behind him. On each saddle hung a well-filled leather sack.

Mort and Jess had no doubt about what they contained. The gang members moved with insolent casualness, leaving plenty of time for the two men in the Sheriff's office to identify them - their posters had circulated everywhere. Inside the bank, Majors and the cashier lay in front of the open vault, knocked senseless when the outlaws entered the bank by the side entrance just after the bank closed for lunch.

Mort couldn't wait any longer. He stormed out of the office just as Hal mounted his horse.

"Stop where you are !" he yelled, aiming his rifle at them. "You're under arrest!"

He'd surprised the group at their most vulnerable moment, but they weren't fazed. McPherson, the lead rider, raised his hands, pretending to give up but Alexander Owen immediately opened fire.

Mort fired back, dropped to the ground and rolled behind the water barrel at the corner of the office. He got off several shots without finding his mark, but the noise frightened the horses who reared up in panic.

Hal, who had only one foot in the stirrup, was thrown onto to the boardwalk in front of the bench at the bank. McPherson's gelding reared and threw his rider into the bank's hitching post. Owen was longest in the saddle but his horse was hit by a stray bullet and floundered, dumping his rider onto the ground. Owen, using his dying animal as cover, fired into the jail, forcing Jess to take cover.

The other two men targeted the Sheriff who was cursing at himself for not having bought a bigger water barrel and hoping the street was as empty as he'd thought it was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone hurry into a building. He heard a woman scream hysterically and a child cry in terror. A dog barked in somebody's yard and another answered in the opposite direction. After a few more shots, the city finally seemed to be deserted. It was a relief for him to know all the town's inhabitants were out of harm's way.

In the sheriff's office, Jess, seriously limited by his bound left arm, was pinned down by Owen. He pressed his wounded side against the wall and took some shots at the outlaw who was sheltering behind his dead horse. Jess couldn't see the other two men at all. When he stopped to reload, a burst of gunfire shattered the last pane in the window next to him. Suddenly he froze. There was a sound behind him. Horrified, suspecting who it was, he swiveled around to scan the devastated office. Paralyzed by fear, Mike was standing in front of the desk, papers scattered around him on the floor and black ink from a broken inkwell pooling at his feet. Another bullet zinged through the window, smashing the kerosene lamp near him, the oil spilling over everything.

Another volley of gunfire ripped into the office as Jess dived for the boy and threw him to the floor, covering him with his body. As he fell, he struck his left shoulder. The agonizing pain made him think he'd been hit. A bullet zipped by his left temple, just grazing his hair line and another scraped his left ear, bullets that would have hit Mike if the boy had been standing up. Pulling Mike with him, Jess scrambled under Mort's massive desk, protected for the moment from the bullets that peppered the room. Mike whimpered, clinging to him.

"Are you OK?" Jess asked, hoping one of Owens' bullets wouldn't find its mark and hit his back.

Mike nodded, convulsively wrapping his arms around Jess.

"You sure?" he said, trying to get out of the boy's grip without exposing him more than he had to.

"Ye...yes," Mike said, trembling.

"Thank God," Jess, breathed pulling him close despite the terrible pain in his shoulder.

"Are...are you hurt?" the boy asked.

"No, I'm fine." Jess pulled loose from him, straightened up as much as he could and started reloading his gun.

"But...you're bleeding!"

"Where?" he asked, his fingers still jamming bullets in the pistol's cartridge.

"There...on your neck."

Jess swiped at the blood with his hand. "It's ain't bad."

"It's my fault!"

"Nah." Jess pushed the reloaded gun into his holster. "Mike, you stay under here, you hear? You're safe here, but you got to stay down."

"Where're you going?" Mike cried.

"Out the back door. Mort needs help."

"No! Stay here! They'll kill you!"

"Mort needs help, Mike. I got to go."

"No!"

"I'll be OK. Don't worry about me. But you got to stay down, no matter what happens."

"Jess…"

"Promise me, Mike!" Jess said sharply.

"I...I promise," the boy stammered hoarsely.

"Don't get up 'til Mort or me tells you to!" When Mike nodded wordlessly, Jess said, "Good!", ruffled his hair and smiled goodbye.

He waited for a break in the gunfire, then crawled out from under the desk and ran through the cell block to the back door. Flinging it open, he dived through it and slammed it shut as another volley of bullets splintered the wood.

He leaned against the wall for a minute to catch his breath. The pain in his shoulder surged back into awareness but there was no time to worry about that. He clenched his teeth and pulled the Colt out of its holster. The familiar weight of it in his hand gave him a sudden sense of confidence. He wasn't going to lose this fight no matter how much his wound hurt.

From behind the water barrel in front of the building, Mort had been able to keep two of the outlaws pinned down, but McPherson managed to get to his horse and climb into the saddle.

Jess was edging around the jail toward the main street when he heard hoof beats racing in his direction. McPherson rounded the corner shooting wildly. Jess instantly got off some shots but didn't know for sure if he'd hit him until he saw the riderless horse galloping away, the money-filed leather bag bouncing up and down on the saddle horn. A few steps away from Jess, McPherson lay face down, unmoving. Jess walked over to him, gun in hand to make sure he was dead. He kicked the gun away from the man's hand and turned him on his back. The bullet had smashed into his jaw and torn half his face off.

Gunfire was still popping at the front of the building. The rain barrel Mort was hiding behind was about to fall apart. Even though it was holding together only by one of the iron bands, the sheriff was still able to wing Owen. The man collapsed behind his dead horse and was shooting only sporadically now. But Mort's rifle was out of ammunition. Hall noticed. He came out from cover to get a better view. Looking around the edge of the building, Jess saw him.

"Look out, Mort!" he yelled.

Jess and Hal fired at the same time. Mort grimaced and dropped his Winchester. Hal doubled over, clutching his stomach but kept staggering toward the corner of the jail. A bullet whipped past Jess' head and another hit the wood near his face before he could get off another shot. Hal jerked backward and fell on the ground, his gun flying out of his hand and into the road. Owen had lost a lot of blood and was sprawled over the money bags on the horse's dead body, unconscious.

After the fierce gunfire, the silence felt deafening. The huddled figure behind the rain barrel moved. Jess, with his gun still cocked and in his hand, ran out into the street and over to the Sheriff.

"Are you hit?" he asked, scanning the street to make sure nobody was moving before he holstered his gun.

"Yeah," Mort said.

"Let me see." Jess pushed Mort's jacket open, finding a bloody shirt beneath.

"It's just a scratch," Mort said. "How about you?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure," Mort said, getting to his feet. He held his left hand against his side where Hal's bullet had ripped a furor in the skin just below his ribs. The wound didn't seem particularly dangerous but blood was running over his hand and dripping to the ground. "I guess we better take care of the bodies. Where's McPherson?"

"Around the corner. He was tryin' to get away. You sure you're OK?"

"Never better," Mort declared, moving gingerly across the street to Owen and the dead horse. He flipped the unconscious man onto his back and bent down to examine the leather bags. They were stuffed to the brim with the bank's money.

The gun smoke hadn't cleared before the first townsperson appeared on the street.

"Get the doctor!" Mort snapped, irritated by the gap-mouthed on lookers.

One of the crowd dashed off in the direction of Doc Higgins office just as the door of the bank opened. Majors stumbled out with his dazed cashier, both looking surprised that they'd survived. Majors had a hand pressed to a lump on the back of his neck. After he surveyed the fallen outlaws, he sank to the bench beside the door with a loud sigh of relief.

Jess didn't even glance at him. Instead, with his gun drawn, he walked over to the body of Hal Thorne lying motionless in the street. He needed to make sure he was dead.

There was an ugly wound beneath Hal's left ribs and another in his chest on the right. Jess eased up to him. The outlaw seemed to be dead but as Jess looked down at him, Hal's eyes snapped open and stared at him.

"You!" he ground out, sneering.

"Yeah, it's me…," Jess said, gun cocked.

"Didn't think we'd meet again," the dying man gasped, his voice harsh and faint. His cold eyes glared into Jess'. "I never made such a lousy shot before…"

"It was good enough," Jess said dryly.

"Yeah…," the grimace on Hal's grey face broadened into a hideous grin, "...but I'm gonna see you again...at the gates of...hell. I'll be...waitin'...for you. I won't miss then…" he sneered with his last breath. He left the world with the hateful grin frozen on his dead, white face. His glassy eyes leered at Jess as if he really did want to drag him to hell with him.

Jess stared down at him for a long time. It was hard for him to know what he was feeling. Not pity, not after all the death and pain Hal inflicted on other people, including himself. Jess was glad he hadn't killed him out of revenge. His conscience wouldn't have been easy with that. And no one could blame him for feeling relieved. He did. He was glad he was dead. He even felt satisfaction that he was the one that killed him. But Jess had been thinking about death a lot recently, his own death. Hal would have died happy if he'd known that, but for Jess taking another person's life was never easy.

A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Mort but Jess didn't look up. He was deep in thought, his face solemn.

"That was too close for comfort," Mort said.

"Yeah…"

"What did he say to you?"

"He said he'll be waitin' for me in hell."

"Well, I wouldn't let that worry me."

"I guess not."

Mort took a careful look at him. "It had to be done, Jess," he said, tightening his grip on Jess' shoulder.

"I know. I just wish it had been different."

"Things _are_ different now. We don't have to worry about those guys anymore."

"That ain't what I meant." Jess was still solemn, even sad, lines of pain and exhaustion etching his face. Now that the crisis was over, the last of his strength was draining away and the agony in his chest surged back into awareness.

Seeing the strain on his young friend's face, Mort nodded. "I wish it had been different, too," he said. "And if anybody asked, you were acting as my deputy."

"I got nothin' to hide."

"Of course you don't. I'm glad you were here instead of one of my deputies. I owe you my life."

Jess' mouth twitched in what was meant to be a smile. He nodded toward the street behind Mort. He'd seen Deputy Clem Brittfield at the far edge of town running toward them.

"Take a look, Mort," he said. "Clem's afoot but he's hoofin' it this way on his own."

The sheriff turned around, then shook his head at the sight of his deputy huffing and puffing their way.

"He's a little late but at least he's trying," he said, resigned. "He's probably coming from the dancehall and didn't take time to saddle his horse."

Gary Morgan was also running toward them, pencil and paper already in hand.

"And here comes our favorite newspaper man," Jess said wearily.

"I better make sure the money gets back into the bank before the rest of the town gets here," Mort said, just as wearily.

"Why don't you let Clem do that? You better get to the Doc. You're still bleedin'."

"Dan's probably already on his way but I don't think Owen is going to make it. He'll need an undertaker instead of a doctor. The folks at Leavenworth will be glad of that."

"I can't blame them," Jess said grimly, turning away.

"Hold up, there. Where're you going?" Mort asked.

Jess thought he better take the time to tell Mort what had happened. "Mike's still in your office. I got to see about him."

"At least he was safe in a jail cell."

"He would've been if he'd stayed there."

"What do you mean?"

"He came out and was standin' in front of your desk when Owen was firin' at me."

"Is he OK?"

Jess pointed to the scrape on his head. "This would have hit him if I hadn't got to him. But's OK - thank God."

"You go on. I'll right be right there."

Jess walked away just as Morgan reached the sheriff.

"That was one hell of a fight!" He shouted. "Hey, that's one of the guys on the wanted posters," he exclaimed when he saw Hal Thorne.

"Yeah," Mort said, "and so are the other two."

"My goodness!" Gary took in the scene in the street, ignoring the people who were pouring out of the buildings and were milling around but keeping a respectful distance from Sheriff Corey. They knew better than to get too close to him at times like this. Gary was almost ecstatic. "This is a great story," he said enthusiastically, "I'll print an extra edition!"

"I expect you to stick to the facts, Gary," Mort said.

"You know me, Mort! I always do!"

"Make sure of it this time," Mort said. "This situation is bad enough without exaggerating it."

"I didn't get to talk to Jess Harper just now. He was part of it, right?'

"Hold on, now. Give us time to take care of things here. Come by my office in a couple of hours and I'll tell you about it."

"Sure," Morgan agreed, knowing Mort's information was worth waiting on.

"Do me a favor," Mort asked. "Leave Jess alone. This hasn't been easy for him."

"Is he OK?"

"Yes, thank God."

"But you were hit," Gary said, pointing to Mort's bleeding side.

"Like I said - two hours, Gary."

"Of course. Can I take photographs of these three guys?"

"I don't care."

"Where's the third one?"

"Over there in the side street."

As Gary sped off to document his big story, Clem finally reached the sheriff. He was a young, hard-headed, red-haired man with a couple of dimples in his cheeks that made him look like a kid. But when he wasn't spending the day his dance hall girlfriend, he was a reliable deputy. He lacked experience in an emergency but he was capable of learning. In a few years, he would a top-notch lawman.

"Sheriff!" Clem panted when he reached Mort. "What's goin' on?"

"I'll tell you later," Mort said. Blood loss from his wound made him ready to turn things over to the deputy. He quickly described the situation and told him he was going to the office to wait for Doc Higgins.

"You need help?"

"No. I'll be fine. Just remember you'll be the first one to handle the money bags so I'm holding you responsible."

"Yes, sir!" Clem replied happily.

"When you're done, chase everybody away and come over to the office."

"Yes, sir!" he said again.

Mort watched, shaking his head again as Clem ran toward the side street next to the jail where he nearly stumbled into the dead Ron McPherson and the very much alive Gary Morgan who was examining the body, unfazed by the sight of the smashed, bloody skull.

As soon as Clem came back with the money sacks slung over his shoulder, the sheriff knew his deputy had the situation under control. Mort quietly headed for his office. He would be glad when he could finally sit down.

END OF CHAPTER 24


	25. Chapter 25

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 25

During the gunfight, Mike crouched under the desk with his hands over his ears. He was whimpering like a terrified puppy, and his body jerked with every shot fired. He was too scared to cry, too scared to move. He was more frightened for his foster father than for himself. He knew that every gunshot might mean Jess had been hit. Why did Hall have to come back and start all this over again?

Finally, the shooting slowed down and then stopped. The absolute silence seemed as deadly as the noise of the guns. Mike started sobbing. He didn't dare move from his place under the desk. A fountain pen rolled off the desktop and fell to the floor with a clank. The boy jumped as if a cannon had gone off. He sobbed harder and curled up tight, trying to make himself invisible. He longed to run into Jess' arms - but his foster father was probably dead.

Crying convulsively, he didn't know that someone had entered the office and was calling for him. When a hand fell on his back, he shrank away. He was sure one of the outlaw gang had found him in his hiding place.

"Mike! Mike! Are you alright?"

Mike knew that voice, the deep, warm voice of his foster father. He'd never heard anything more wonderful. Life flowed back into his rigid body. He whipped around and flung himself at Jess, wrapping his arms around his foster father's neck with such violence the man nearly lost his balance and felt close to being strangled. A stabbing pain shot deep into his chest.

"Jess…" Mike sobbed. "I...thought...you...were...dead…" The boy could barely speak.

"I will be if you don't stop smotherin' me," Jess said, his own voice rough with emotion and the effort to breathe. "It's alright. I'm alright." He spoke softly, holding the boy tight and rubbing his back. He was having a hard believing they'd survived himself. "Are you OK?" he asked gently, ignoring his own pain.

Mike nodded, still sobbing. Jess held him until he finally began to calm down, but even then he refused to let go of his foster father's neck. At last, in between gulping breaths and in a cracked voice, he asked, "Are...you...OK?"

"Sure. I'm fine," Jess said and smiled at him as the boy pulled back a little.

Mike wiped his arm over his tear-wet face and scrubbed at his nose. Now that he could see Jess, he could tell that he didn't look that good. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his face was white and sunken. "Are you really OK?" he asked, worried.

"I told you I am, didn't I?"

"How about Sheriff Corey?"

"He got hurt a little bit, but he's OK. He'll be here soon."

"And...that...man? How about him?" Mike asked, his voice thin and high. His throat was so tight he could barely get the words out.

"He's dead. You don't need to be afraid of him anymore."

"Are...are you sure?" He pulled back even further, staring hard at Jess.

"Sure as shootin'. He can't hurt anybody anymore. We can quit worrying about him."

"Did...did you…?"

Jess nodded, his face grave and sad. "He didn't give me a choice. He would've killed the sheriff - and me," he said, looking straight at Mike.

Mike let out the breath he was holding in one great whoosh of relief. "Good! That's good, Jess! I'm so glad! I can't believe it! He can't ever hurt you again can he?"

"No. And he can't hurt you either. I wish he never had."

"It's OK, now!" Mike reassured him. "I feel a lot better!" Mike sighed and squeezed Jess tight again.

"Hey, Tiger," Jess said, hugging him back, "We might be glad he's gone, but we got to remember he was still a man, a human being."

"But he was a bad man! A really bad man! I'm glad he's dead!"

Jess didn't push it. Mike didn't care if Hal was a human being or a devil who wore a human face. The only thing that mattered to him was that he'd hurt Jess and couldn't do it again. It seemed like it was only fair that Jess had been the one to kill him. Justice had been done.

The pain in Jess' chest was more important to the wounded man right now than Hal's humanity. "Ease up, Mike," he said hoarsely, trying to pull Mike's arms away. "I'm glad you feel better, but you're hurtin' me now."

Mike quickly let go, shocked. He'd forgotten about Jess' wound. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" He was about to break into tears again.

"It's OK, partner," Jess said, squeezing the boy's shoulder and trying to smile. "It don't hurt that much."

"It's all my fault!"

"What're you talkin' about?"

"I hurt your arm outside and then I didn't stay where you told me to...and they almost shot you...and now…"

"Simmer down, Mike. If you hadn't spotted Hal at the bank, he'd probably have killed me then - and in the jail, we were all in a bad situation. You didn't make it any worse."

"But you got hurt!" Mike insisted, pointing to the scrape on Jess' ear.

"I might've caught a bullet at the door over there. They were flyin' everywhere. Who knows? Comin' after you might've saved my life."

"I'm always doing something wrong!"

"That ain't so! But I thought something bad might of happened to make you leave."

"I'm sorry, Jess... I was scared... I didn't like being by myself… Please don't be mad..."

"I ain't mad at you, Tiger! You're safe, and that's all that matters to me."

"I promise I won't do it again…"

Jess buried his hand in the boy's blonde hair and pulled him close to his heart. "I hope you're never in a fix like this again," he whispered into his ear. "All kinds of things happen in a gunfight, and a lot of it is just plain luck. You didn't do anything wrong. You're OK and I'm OK and there's one thing I'm sure of - I'm not mad at you." He pushed him back a little so he could look at him. "Now, listen up, partner. You need to blow that runny nose of yours and wipe off your face so we can start straightenin' things up. You look like a wet-nosed hound dog."

Mike's face brightened. When his foster father started talking to him to him like that he knew everything was alright. He had no idea how much of his waning strength Jess had to summon to make him believe that.

The office door opened. "It looks like a bomb went off in here!" Mort said, limping toward the washstand on the back wall. Its wash bowl was drilled with bullet holes, and the mirror above it was shattered to bits.

Jess pushed himself to his feet, Mike rising with him, hovering close to his side. After making sure it would still hold him, Jess dropped into a chair with Mike stood behind him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "What're you complainin' about?" Jess joked, trying to catch his breath. "Your desk is still standin'."

"That's about the only thing," Mort grumbled. He grabbed a towel hanging from an undamaged rack, crumpled it up and stuck it under his shirt to staunch the blood from his wound. "If Dan doesn't get here soon, I might bleed to death," he groused.

"Does it hurt?" Mike asked.

"Not that much. It could have been a lot worse. A lot of things would've been a lot worse if it hadn't been for you two."

"Mike was one who spotted him first," Jess said.

Mort took an assessing look at Mike and said, "By golly, you're right! You know what? I better deputize this boy." He rummaged in his desk drawer and pulled out a shiny five-pointed star with the word "Deputy" etched onto it and put it into Mike's hand. "From now on I want to see you wearing that whenever you come into this office, or you'll be in trouble with me."

"You mean...I can keep it?"

"You are now an official representative of this city. I want the folks of this town to know who to thank."

"Oh, boy! This is great!" Mike's eyes were as big as a tin plate as he pinned the badge on. "How do I look?" he asked, proudly throwing his shoulders back.

"Like a real lawman," Jess said, smiling at him. The badge seemed to have gone a long way toward helping Mike get over the last terrifying twenty minutes. Jess was glad to see it. He shot a grateful look at Mort. "You better sit down before you fall down," he told the lawman.

Mort was leaning against his desk trying to sweep shards of glass off of it with a file cover. "If I do I'm afraid I won't get up anymore," he said, grimacing. Then he gave up, sank into his revolving chair and turned his attention to Jess. "I got you to thank for holding me back from going after Hal right away. Those two inside the bank would have cut me down even if I got him."

"I could've been wrong."

"Well, you weren't. You were right about that gang coming back and going after the money in the bank. You've earned that reward, you know."

"What reward?"

Mort gave him a disbelieving look and shook his head as he dug out the three wanted posters from the long drawer in his desk. "This reward!" he said, thumping them. Five thousand dollars all together."

Jess frowned. "I ain't no bounty hunter."

"Then accept it for Mike. He's the one who made it possible for us to bring them down."

Before Jess could answer, the door opened and Lincoln Majors walked in. Despite the bump on the back of his neck, he was beaming.

"Gentlemen!" he cried joyfully. "That was the fight of the century!"

"Hold on, now, Majors…" Mort said.

"Not a penny missing!" Lincoln went on undeterred. "And all of them dead! You have my thanks! You have the town's thanks! Well done! Well done!"

"Thank, Jess, not me, Majors," Mort said. "He's the one who saw what was happening."

"It was Mike," Jess interjected. "He spotted Hal and warned me. We couldn't of stopped them without him."

"Then you're the hero of the day!" Majors exclaimed, grabbing Mike's hand and shaking it until the boy turned red with embarrassment.

"I was just scared of him…" he stammered. "I was afraid he'd hurt Jess…"

"Well, I was afraid of them, too, when I saw them walk into my bank! And since you're the one who saw them first, you get the reward!"

"I don't want it!" Mike's cried shrilly.

"Me and Mike agree about that," Jess said, glowering.

Looking at Jess' face, Majors decided this wasn't the time to argue the issue. Besides, there would be another time and other ways to show how much he and the rest of the town appreciated being rescued from the outlaw gang. At any rate, the conversation was interrupted when the office door swung open again, and Clem and the doctor barged in.

"Finally," Mort said. "I thought you were going to let me bleed to death."

"I don't think there's any danger of that," the doctor said, looking at Jess instead of the sheriff. "Why I am not surprised you're a part of this?"

"Just take care of Mort," Jess snapped.

"You look like you need me more than he does. I think you've forgotten where I want you to be," the doctor persisted. "And it's not here."

"Knock it off, Doc. Mort's the one who needs you now."

"I'm going to take care of him, but you're next."

"The third one is dead!" Clem announced loudly, tired of waiting to deliver his news.

"He's right," Higgins said, bending to look at Mort's wound. "He was dead when I got to him."

"That's good," Mort said. "We don't have to worry about him anymore...ouch!" he yelped as Doc Higgins probed the wound on his side. "Take it easy down there!

"Don't be so squeamish," Higgins snapped.

"I'm not squeamish and I'm not an ox, so don't treat me like one!"

"I need for you to lie down so I can stitch you up." The doctor picked up his black bag and headed for a jail cell. "Come on. I haven't got all day."

Mort groaned and stood up. "Well, what're you waiting for?" he growled at Clem. "Get started on that report. Jess can help you if you need it."

Clem sat down in the sheriff's chair and started on the paperwork, trying to concentrate amid loud complaints coming from both patient and doctor in the jail cell.

A little while later, Mort limped back into the office. Clem jumped up and gave him his seat back. "We got a lot done!" he said proudly. "Jess was a big help."

"I told you he would be," Mort said with a glance at Jess who was looking worse than ever.

"Who's next?" the doctor asked, coming back into the room and heading straight toward Jess.

"Mr. Majors got a big lump on the back of his neck," Clem said, distracting the doctor's attention. "I think you ought to look at it."

"Oh, it's nothing," Majors said.

The doctor took a look anyway, pronounced it harmless, and told him to put a cold cloth compress on it to bring down the swelling. Then he turned to Jess.

"I want to see you in my office - today!" he ordered.

"I'll be there in a minute," Jess answered.

The doctor was astonished - Jess must be feeling as bad as he looked. When Higgins left the office, Jess got up from his chair, grimacing with pain.

Mort was alarmed. "Are you coming back?"

"No. Not unless you need me. I think Mike and me better go on home after I see the doc."

"I'll need you to finish the report but we can do that later. You don't look so good. Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. I'll see you later. Come on, Mike. Let's go."

After the door closed behind them, Majors asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"You saw him. He's exhausted," Mort said. He hesitated a moment then added, "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but… He's a dying man, Linc."

"What do you mean?" Majors asked, shocked.

"It's from the wound. Doc says his days are numbered. He won't get better if he stays in Laramie."

"Why am I just now hearing about this? Can't anything be done?"

"Not much. He might get better if he goes to a different climate, but even that's not a guarantee."

"But he's done so much for us - for this town. Just look at what he did today! There must be something that can be done to help him!"

"Doc wants him to go to a sanatorium in Colorado Springs. He has a college friend there, a lung specialist that might help him."

"Then he must go."

"He's not sure he wants to."

"But he could use the reward money to pay for it!"

"He won't take the reward. And the money isn't the main problem. He doesn't think it will help him and he'd rather die here."

"Perhaps I should have a talk with him."

"Linc, I believe it would be better to leave him alone and let him think through this himself. It has to be his decision, and whatever it is, we're going to have to accept it."

"Well, of course," Majors said thoughtfully, "but there may be a way to make it easier for him to make the right choice. He must take the best chance he has to live…"

Mort let it go. Lincoln Majors seemed determined to have an influence Jess' personal affairs. There wasn't much Mort could do about that.

Dan Higgins was waiting for Jess in his office, not sure he would come even though he said he would - but he did come. Mike was with him. It wasn't easy to convince the boy he couldn't come into the examination room with Jess.

"I promise I won't hurt him," Dan told him, glad to see Mike's concern. "And I think my housekeeper has a treat for you, don't you Mrs. Howard?"

"I certainly do," Mrs. Howard said, taking the boy's hand. "How would you like a cup of hot chocolate?"

"I don't like hot chocolate!" Mike declared.

"Mike!" Jess sharply corrected this obvious lie and his rudeness.

"Aw… OK. I guess I'll try it," Mike said, reluctantly going with Mrs. Howard without further protest.

"That rascal!" Jess' mouth quirked sideways in combined amusement and exasperation.

"He loves you with all his heart," Dan said.

"Sometimes, I wish he didn't."

"I hope you're not serious!"

"It would make things a lot easier," Jess said, struggling out of his jacket, grimacing with pain.

"Sit down," Doc said. "I'll clean that scrape on your ear first, or you're liable to get blood poisoning."

"That would speed things up."

"Don't start that nonsense again!" The scrape was harmless, and Dan dabbed a little iodine on it. "This will heal up by itself in a week or so."

"I think the bullet that did that was the one that would've hit Mike…"

"If it had hit you a little lower it would have ripped through your jugular vein."

"That would've solved a lot of problems."

"If you really want to die that badly, why didn't you make sure one of those bullets hit you? It would have been easy to do."

Jess didn't answer, thinking about what Dan said.

"So...you're not really that suicidal," Dan said with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"I…" Jess clamped down on the smart come-back he was about to make. He took a shallow breath. "I guess you're right," he said slowly, sounding thoughtful and a little surprised. "I never thought about it. In fact, there were a couple of times I was downright scared I wouldn't make it."

"You? Scared?"

"More than once. You sound like you don't believe me."

"Frankly - I don't."

"That proves you ain't never been in a gunfight."

"You're right. I prefer to patch folks up afterward everything is over."

Jess tried to grin but failed. He didn't want to talk to the doctor any more about this subject, or any subject for that matter. He was in intense pain and only wanted a quiet corner where he could like down and go to sleep.

"You're quiet today," Dan said, knowing Jess was hurting by watching his jaw clenching and unclenching. "No snappy comment?"

"Nope."

"You're in pain." It was a statement, not a question.

Jess nodded, gritting his teeth. "You got something that'll take the edge off?"

For the second time that day, his patient astonished him. Jess was really at the end of his rope to ask for a pain-killer. "I have to examine you first."

"You think anything's changed?"

"No."

"Gotten worse?"

"Maybe. Are you having trouble breathing?"

"You know I am."

When Higgins removed the bandage, he found a fist-sized bruise on Jess' left shoulder. "How did this happen?" he asked.

Jess gave a tired look at his shoulder. "Probably when I hit it against Mort's desk taking cover with Mike."

"Well, that explains your pain."

"Get a move on, will you?" Jess gasped as Dan explored the wound with his fingers.

Dan's mouth tightened. He jammed his stethoscope in his ears and listened to rattle and wheeze in Jess' lungs with growing discomfort. The infection was worse. He'd barely finished his exam when Jess started coughing, a racking attack that intensified his pain and ended when he expelled blood-stained phlegm and mucous.

"How long have you been coughing up blood?" Dan asked.

Jess struggled for air. "Since...yesterday." He coughed again, doubling up with pain. "I'm hurtin' like hell," he gasped. "Hurry up, damn it!"

Dan quickly rewrapped the bandage and went to his medicine cabinet to make a concoction of pain-killing medication combined with a circulation boosting agent. He put the glass of evil smelling liquid in Jess' hand.

"Drink it before you collapse," he ordered.

Jess obeyed without comment, emptying the cup and grimacing afterward. It tasted as bad as it smelled.

"Was that laudanum?" he asked.

"Something stronger."

"Whatever's in it, I hope it kicks in soon."

"It'll take a few minutes." Dan helped him put his shirt on. "Was there as much blood yesterday as today?" Dan asked as he grasped Jess' wrist to monitor his pulse.

"No. Not as much. And I felt stronger yesterday."

"That gunfight you were just in didn't help anything, you know. You should have stayed out of it."

"And let Mort be killed?"

"Don't get huffy on me. If you want the medicine to work you need to stay calm and breathe as regularly and as deeply as you can. And don't talk so much."

"You're tellin' me that?" Jess was panting and on the verge of coughing again but after a minute or two, his pulse steadied. Dan released his wrist.

"You really should avoid any more excitement. You must take care of yourself."

"I couldn't do anything but what I did, Dan," Jess said quietly, looking down at the shirt he was trying to button.

"I know," Dan said, putting his hand on Jess' shoulders. "That you've gotten this far is a miracle as far as I'm concerned."

"Yeah," Jess agreed. His fingers shook as he got the last button into the last buttonhole. He ran his hand over his forehead to wipe away beads of sweat. Now that the pain had subsided he realized how exhausted he was. "I used up some of my time today, didn't I?"

Dan moved behind his desk. For a moment, he looked thoughtfully at Jess then lowered his eyes, hurt by the sadness he saw in his patient's face. "I'm afraid so," he said. He lifted his head and met Jess' gaze with steely determination. "Jess, you can't wait any longer! I'll telegram Tyler today. You have to leave as soon as possible."

"You ain't asked me if I wanted to."

"I don't care if you want to or not! You have to go!"

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I've already decided to go. I was goin' to tell you on Monday."

"I wish you were already there. Have you talked to Mike about it?"

"No."

"Then do so as soon as possible. Tyler's answer will be on my desk by noon tomorrow. You can leave on the south bound train sometime next week. And if you're not back at my office on Monday, I'm coming out to the ranch to get you."

"I'll be here."

Dan looked at him skeptically. There were only two reasons for Jess to give in so easily. Either he knew it was the best thing he could do for himself or he wanted to spare his family the agony of watching him die slowly and painfully.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" Jess asked.

"Just wondering why you've changed your mind so quickly."

"It ain't been that fast. I've been thinkin' a lot about it. How much is it goin' to cost? I don't want to use up all the money I got put aside for Mike."

Now Dan had the answer to his question. Jess wanted to get away to spare his family. Fighting for his life was only secondary, maybe not even that.

"Tyler said he'd work with you about the fee because you're a friend of mine. My guess is that it will be somewhere around two or three hundred dollars a week."

Jess nodded. They both stood up, but Jess' pain roared to life again. He leaned heavily against the desk, dizzy and faint.

"Why don't you lie down for a few minutes?" Dan asked, worried.

Jess straightened up. "I'm OK. Just got up too quick."

"Promise me you'll rest when you get home."

"I will."

"No ifs, ands or buts."

"Nope. Not this time."

"Good," Dan said and went back to his medicine cabinet. He took out a dark brown, carefully labeled glass jar filled with tablets. "Take one of these three times a day, four if you're feeling especially fatigued."

"What is it?" Jess asked, looking at the glass jar with suspicion.

"It's not morphine. It's something to improve your circulation and stimulate your heart. You've stressed your whole system by the heavy work you've been doing."

"Thanks," Jess muttered sheepishly and went to the coat hanger for his jacket, dropping the jar into its pocket.

Dan took off his white work coat and put on his dress coat. "I'll walk out with you and get that telegram to Tyler on its way." He put his hand on Jess' back. "Don't make any plans for next week. You're not going anywhere except to Colorado Springs."

"I'll have to talk to Mike this weekend," Jess said sadly, dipping his hand into his pocket and fiddling with the medication. "I wish I'd already done it. It ain't going to be any easier after what happened today."

END OF CHAPTER 25


	26. Chapter 26

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 26

The driver of the noon stage brought news of the gunfight to the Sherman Ranch. Slim dropped the chain he'd just unhooked from the harness and jerked upright to stare at Mose. "Say that again?" he asked.

Slim dropped the chain he'd just unhooked from the harness and jerked upright to stare at Mose. "Say that again?" he asked.

"You heard me," Mose said. "There ain't never been anything like it. Got all three of 'em, by golly."

"How about Jess?"

"Alive and kicking when I pulled out of town."

"Are you sure it was Hal and his gang?"

"Sure. I didn't see it myself, but it's all over town. Jess got two of 'em. And one of the guys was the guy that shot him! I'll sleep better at night now that those three bit the dust. And I'll feel better about Jess."

"I wish I could," Slim said. Stone faced, he bent to finish what he'd been doing. All the guilt he felt when he'd failed to warn Jess in time flooded back. It was his fault Jess got shot in the first place. Now he'd missed the chance to redeem himself. Jess had to meet the devil a second time and he wasn't there to help him - again.

"Cat got your tongue?" Mose said, cocking a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Just thinking about what could have happened…"

"Now, Slim, you know Jess ain't no tenderfoot. This ain't the first time he's been in a shootout. I saw him at Hanson's. He said he was waiting for the pump, then he and Mike were heading for home."

"He's in bad shape. I'm worried about him!" Slim fired the words out like bullets from a gun. He looked like he was about to bite Moses' head off.

Mose drew himself up with a huff and snapped the whip. The stage rolled off toward Cheyenne, leaving two very worried people behind at the ranch. The passengers had shared the news with Daisy as they partook of coffee and biscuits at the living room table. When the stage left, she hurried to talk to Slim and found him standing on the porch, looking toward the Laramie Road, debating whether he should saddle up and ride to town.

"Slim!" she cried. "The passengers told me about the shooting! What did Mose say?"

"Hal and his gang tried to rob the bank and Jess was in it up to his neck."

"Oh, dear God!" She held her face with her hands. "Is he...dear heaven, is he hurt?"

"No. Mose said he saw him at Hanson's, waiting for the pump. He and Mike were about to head home."

Daisy sighed with relief. "Thank God," she said, dropping her hands from her face after wiping the tears from her eyes. "Slim, do you think they came for him?"

"No, it doesn't sound like it." Slim was still staring toward Laramie, wondering if he should ride out to meet them. "Jess will tell us about it when they get here. I think he suspected something like this was going to happen."

"What do you mean?"

"He's been worried about Mike. That's why he's been going to town to get him every day. He's had a feeling something bad was going to happen. I wish I'd had it when he got shot."

"Slim!", she said reprovingly.

"You know it's true. And I wasn't there today when I would have had a chance to make things right."

"Slim, that's absurd! What are you talking about?"

"About not being there for a friend when he needs help."

"There was no way for you to know! You're not clairvoyant." She put her hand on his arm. "How can you blame yourself for not knowing what was going to happen?"

"I should have been there!" he snapped.

"Slim Sherman!" Her tone sharpened as if she were correcting Mike instead of a full grown man. "Don't you think about anything but your own guilt? You should be glad this nightmare is finally over."

Slim stared at her, aghast. She'd never spoken to him like that before - but it made him realize she was right. He couldn't have known, and he shouldn't be burdening his family with this guilt that he couldn't get rid of. It was a good thing he'd talked to her before dumping his bad feelings on Jess. It would only have irritated and upset him. The rancher's expression brightened.

"Daisy, you're a saint!" he said and hugged her.

"Oh, you!" she protested. "Don't try to soften me up with your flattery!" She smiled and let him give her a loving kiss her forehead. "I think I understand why you and Jess shout at each other now and them. You're both as stubborn as mules!"

"Most of the time we're not serious."

"Well, I am! About what I just said at least." Slim's quick change of mind worried her a bit.

"I know. I just wish I'd been there when those three killers showed up again." He turned back to scan the road. "He ought to be here by now."

"Don't start worrying again. Remember that Mose said he was waiting on the pump."

"Yeah," Slim said absently. "I think I'll ride out to meet them."

Daisy nodded. "I'll keep the food warm."

Slim went to the barn and started saddling Alamo, but when he heard the rattle of the wagon coming toward the ranch, he went to meet them.

Jess had asked Mike to drive up to the house so he could get out there. The sun was setting as Mike jumped to the ground and ran around to untie Browny from the back of the wagon. Jess crawled down from the wooden seat like he was an old man.

"Hey, Slim!" Mike shouted. The trauma of the gunfight was pushed to the back of his mind in the joy of having a good story to tell. "You won't believe what happened today!"

"You're right. I wouldn't believe it if Mose hadn't told me about it," Slim said, his face tight, his words clipped.

"Jess and Mort got all of them…"

"Later, Mike! You need to take care of your pony and Daisy is holding supper for us."

"Do what he says, cowboy," Jess said quietly.

"OK," Mike said reluctantly. "Come on Browny. I'll tell you about it," he grumbled as he trudged off toward the barn, Browny in tow.

"So what happened?" Slim asked.

"Mose already told you." Jess was leaning against the wagon, but Slim didn't notice. "I got nothin' much to say about it."

"I'd like to hear it from you."

"Can we save it?"

"Damn it, Jess! You're in the middle of a gunfight, and you don't want to talk about it?"

"You're talking like I stirred things up just so I could get shot at."

"Did you?"

"No! Me and Mike walked into it before we knew what was happenin'," he snapped.

"After the way you've been talking the last couple of days, you can't blame me for thinking about it."

"I wouldn't get Mike into anything like that."

"I had to ask, Jess. Was Mose right about it being Hal and his gang?"

"Yeah." Jess gasped suddenly and stuck his hand under his jacket, pushing against his wound.

"Did you get hit?" Alarmed, Slim grabbed both of Jess' shoulders to support him.

"No."

"You can barely stand up!" Slim finally became aware of Jess' exhaustion. "Did Doc Higgins take a look at you?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what? What did he say?"

"It's gettin' worse. I've been coughin' up blood again."

Slim's grip on his shoulders tightened. "Did you tell Dan about that?"

Jess nodded.

"And…?"

"He's telegraphed Tyler. I'll go next week."

"What about Mike?"

"I'll tell him this weekend."

Slim saw the iodine on the scrape on Jess' ear. He touched it lightly. "How about this?"

"Just a scratch. Dan didn't even want to stitch it up."

"Well...alright." Slim's expression softened. "I'm glad you still in one piece. And I want to hear what happened...from you."

Jess ducked his head and his mouth crooked to the side. "OK, partner, but I got to get inside now if you'll get out of my way."

"You need help?" Slim asked without moving.

"I'm fine."

"I'll unload the wagon. I see you got the pump."

"Yeah. And Daisy's stuff's in there, too."

Slim reluctantly stepped aside and watched tight-lipped as his partner pulled himself away from the support of the wagon. Jess slowly climbed the steps to the porch, then leaned against the post for a moment because he felt dizzy.

"Are you sure you don't want some help?" Slim persisted.

"I'm alright," he said, finally making it through the front door like a sick wolf limping into its den.

Slim waited to take care of the supplies until he saw Daisy meet Jess inside the door and wrap her arms around him. She saw his exhaustion immediately and took him to the kitchen table for a hot cup of coffee. As soon as Slim and Mike came in, she had the family sit down at the dinner table. Jess needed to eat as quickly as possible so he could get into bed and rest.

Mike's appetite hadn't been affected by the events of the day. He shoveled spoonful after spoonful of beef stew into his mouth and managed to keep talking at the same time. Jess said almost nothing and ate less.

Daisy finally had to say something about it. "You're not feeling very well are you, Jess?"

"It's been a long day. I'm goin' to go on upstairs and lie down, but don't worry. I'm just followin' doctor's orders."

He was unsteady when he pushed back from the table. Slim fought the urge to get up and help him, but he knew it would only irritate him. He watched anxiously as Jess slowly climbed the stairs toward his room.

Daisy leaned toward the rancher, as anxious as he was. "Slim, what's wrong with him?" she asked.

"I think the fight in town was too much for him - and he won't tell me about it."

"He's never talked a lot about things like that."

"Yeah, but this was different. I'd like to know what happened."

"I can tell you!" Mike piped up. "Not _everything_ but most of it."

"Not right now, Mike." Slim looked worried. He drank the last of his coffee and stood up. "I'm going up and see how he's doing."

Daisy hurried to the kitchen and gave him a pitcher of fresh water to take with him. He held it one hand and knocked on Jess' door with the other.

"Come on in," Jess called out. His voice was gravelly with fatigue. When Slim opened the door, he saw that Jess had already taken off his shirt. He set the pitcher on the washstand and watched as his partner poured the water into a bowl and splashed it on his face, rubbing his skin hard as if trying to wash away the stains of the day.

"Daisy told me to bring that water up to you," Slim said.

"Sounds like an excuse to me."

"And she said for me to bring you shirt down so she could wash the blood out of it."

"It's on the chair."

Jess leaned over the washbowl fighting his growing dizziness, his face as white as the linen bandage wrapped tightly around his chest. He glanced back and saw Slim watching him. "What're you lookin' at?" he snapped, turning around, making the dizziness worse. He leaned against the washstand to keep his balance.

"Why're you going to lie down? I know it's not because Dan told you to."

"Well, if you got to know, it's because I'm dizzy, I'm tired and this wound I got is killin' me. Is that good for you?"

"Come on, Jess…"

Jess ran his hand over his wet face, grabbed a towel off the washstand behind him and dried off. "Sorry, Slim," he said, throwing the towel aside, "but I'm feeling' pretty bad."

"You look it."

"Thanks," Jess said dryly. He walked to the bed, unsteady on his feet. "I'll be alright if I rest for a while," he said, sinking onto the edge of the mattress.

"You overdid it today."

"Probably." He reached for the pills Dr. Higgins gave him and swallowed two of them. Then he lay down, propping his against the pillows at the top of the bed.

"What're you taking?"

"Something Dan gave me for my heart." He grimaced with pain and pressed his hand against his chest. "If this ache don't ease up soon, I might take a dose of laudanum, too."

"Do you want me to get you some?"

"Not yet."

"It might help you."

"I doubt it."

"I guess a gunfight works better than laudanum." Slim felt bad the minute he said it, but he couldn't take it back.

"That wasn't my doing," Jess snapped. "I ain't never started a fight like that."

"But you've been in plenty of them."

"I guess you think killin' two people is easy for me," Jess snarled.

"You've never let it get to you like this before."

"You think I kill people for fun?" His eyes were tightly shut, his dark eyelashes shadowing his pale cheeks.

"You know I don't! You had a good reason to kill those two this morning."

"I didn't have a choice."

"It was self-defense."

"Yeah."

Slim stared down at him, perplexed. He'd been with Jess in a lot of gunfights. He'd never reacted this way before. He pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat down beside the bed. "Look, Jess," he said, his voice quiet and firm. "Whatever happened today has really gotten to you - and you don't want to talk about it. But I'm not leaving until you do."

"There ain't much to say."

"Oh, yeah?" Slim said. He leaned forward, his hands clasped, his elbows and his knees and waited.

Jess' eyes flicked open to take a fast look at his partner before halfway closing, looking down at nothing. At last, he said, "Mike was in the middle of it. I keep seein' him standin' there in Mort's office. Another two seconds and he would've been hit…" He turned his head away from Slim. "...let Mike tell you about it…"

"Can Mike tell me how you shot those two guys?"

"No…" His dark brows furrowed but when Slim kept waiting, he finally went on. "One of them - Ron - was tryin' to get away. Mort was under fire out in front of the jail and I was comin' around the side of it tryin' to get to him. This horse came around the corner right on top of me and I shot at the rider. I didn't know it was Ron. I got lucky. I blew his jaw off." Jess swallowed hard and scrubbed at his forehead.

"I'm glad you got him," Slim said. "What about the other one?"

"It was Hal. He had Mort pinned down, but I winged him."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough. But he wouldn't stop comin'. I had to shoot him again - and he was still alive when I got to him."

"Sounds like the Hal I saw that day he shot you."

"Yeah. He knew me right off… He...said he'd be waitin' for me - at the gates...of hell."

"I hope you're not worrying about that."

"It was the way he said it…the way he grinned at me. I know I didn't see him that day he shot me but you did. And Mike did. Now I know what you saw - a cold-blooded murderer. It ...scared me."

"Then why are you feeling so bad? You did what you had to do and you probably saved Mort's life."

"That ain't it, Slim. That ain't what scared me. When I saw him...dying...I was glad. I was glad I killed him. I liked doin' it - like he did."

Now Slim understood. "You're not like him, Jess," he said, full of certainty in the truth of his words. "He wanted to make to you think you are, though. I think it was his way of trying to get revenge."

Jess thought about this. "You think that's why he grinned at me?"

"Yeah. And that's why you shouldn't do him any favors by believing it. Or keep on thinking about it. Forget it. Forget him. He's not worth it."

"Yeah. I guess you're right," he said slowly, rubbing his chest and frowning. "I just got to get some rest so I can think straight again."

"Sure you do. It's over now. And you're still alive. We got a lot to be happy about."

"Yeah." He tried to take a deep breath but couldn't manage it. "I probably ought to do some thinkin' about talkin' to Mike."

"Let me know if you need help with that."

"Thanks, Slim, but this is something I have to do myself."

Suddenly Jess gasped and started coughing. Slim grabbed him and lifted him up, propping him up higher on the pillows before getting a towel from the washstand. When the towel began to turn red with blood, Slim slipped his arms around him and held him upright so he could breathe, agonized by his partner's struggle.

As the attack eased, Jess said, "Sorry you had to see this again."

"I wish Dan was here," was Slim's heartfelt reply.

"He already saw it earlier."

"This is the second time today?"

"It wasn't that bad," he said as he tried to reach for a glass of water sitting on the nightstand. He stopped, falling back as another stab of pain shot through him and nailed him against the pillows.

Slim handed the glass to him. "Don't you want some laudanum in this?" he asked.

"Not now." He emptied the glass and sank back against the pillows.

"Do you want to tell me the rest of the story now?" Slim asked.

"No. It's mostly about Mike. I think he ought to tell you about it himself."

Slim helped Jess get between the sheets and pulled the quilts over him. He could tell Jess seemed to be having cold chills. "Do you have a fever?" he asked.

"I don't think so." He coughed again but didn't bring up any bloody mucus. "If I settle down, maybe it won't come back."

"Here's another towel, just in case," Slim said.

"Thanks. I hope this cough isn't contagious."

"Contagious?" Slim's eyebrows went up in surprise. "What makes you think that?"

"It could be, couldn't it?

"Now listen here. It's not contagious, and even if it was, it wouldn't make any difference. And it wouldn't matter to you, either, if it was the other way around."

"Thanks, partner," Jess said softly, closing his eyes. Slim studied him a moment, making sure he was settled in, then turned around and left the room.

The next day just before noon while Slim and Mike were installing the new pump, Mort Corey rode into the yard. He was driving a small two wheeled buggy instead of riding his horse.

Mike dropped everything and ran over to him. "Hi, Sheriff!" he shouted, sticking out his chest to make sure Mort saw the shiny five-pointed star he was wearing.

"Howdy, Deputy! How do you like wearing that badge?"

"A lot! I'm on duty because I'm helping Slim!"

Mort laughed. "It looks real good on you!"

"Howdy, Mort!" Slim called, straightening up from the pump he was working on.

"Morning, Slim."

"Since when do you ride around in a lady's buggy?" Slim teased.

"Since I got sideswiped by a bullet yesterday."

"Yeah. Jess told me about that."

"Where is he?"

"In the house. He's not up yet." Remembering that Mike was close by, he turned to the boy and said, "You better go inside and tell Daisy we're going to have company for lunch."

"Yes, sir!" Mike replied and ran off to do his duty, hoping to impress the sheriff by his swiftness in obeying orders.

When he was out of earshot, Slim said, "Jess didn't want to talk much about what happened. He was in pretty bad shape when he got home yesterday. I learned most of it from Mike. Do you want to see him?"

"I need to talk to him so I can finish the report. I only saw part of what happened."

"Maybe he'll feel up to talking about it this morning. I hope so…"

"I know you're worried about him. So is Dan."

"He's got to go to Colorado Springs. Now he's saying he'll go as soon as he talks to Mike."

"That won't be an easy thing to do."

"You're right about that," Slim said sadly.

"Well, look here!" Mort said to lighten things up. "I brought the Laramie Chronicle with me." He slapped the folded newspaper lying on the seat beside him. "Morgan wrote a pretty good article about what happened without exaggerating too much. I just hope it doesn't attract too many young whippersnappers wanting to make a name for themselves by coming after Jess - or me."

"Don't say anything about that to him. He's got enough to worry about already."

"I won't. I better get on over to see what Miss Daisy's cooked up for lunch," he said with anticipation. "That is, if you don't need a hand with that pump."

"Thanks, Mort but I got the worst of it behind me. Go on over to the house. Daisy'll be glad to see you."

When the sheriff walked into the living room, Daisy came out of the kitchen to meet him, drying her wet hands on her apron.

"Sheriff Corey!" she exclaimed with pleasure. "What a nice surprise!"

"Good morning, Miss Daisy! I'm always glad when I can combine duty with pleasure."

"I hope it's not an unpleasant duty," Daisy said, instantly worried.

"No, not at all. I just need to talk to Jess so I file my report."

"He hasn't come downstairs yet. Yesterday was too much for him, I'm afraid."

"I know - but I'm glad he was there. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him."

"Slim told me you were wounded. Are you alright?"

"This is just a scratch," he said, rubbing his rib cage. "But without Jess, I wouldn't be standing here looking forward to some of your good cooking."

"That's right!" Mike pronounced, walking out of the kitchen licking something sticky off of his finger.

"Mike! What have you been nibbling on?" Daisy said in reproof.

"I just wanted to make sure the dessert was good."

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Daisy shook her head and looked at Mort. "He and Jess stick their fingers into whatever pot is on the stove!"

"'The apple doesn't fall very far from the tree'," Mike quoted, licking the last finger clean.

"Oh, you!" Daisy lamented. "Don't you have something you need to do?"

"Yeah! I'll go out and see where Jess is so he won't miss the food!"

"No, Mike! Don't bother him, please!" she cried, but the boy was already halfway up the stairs.

"Don't worry! I'll be real quiet!" he promised without stopping.

"That boy!" she said, annoyed, then her voice lowered. "I don't know what he'll find up there. I hope Jess is asleep and not…"

"Doesn't the boy know how bad off Jess is?"

"Oh, Mort! You can't imagine how hard he works to hide how ill he really is from Mike - from all of us."

"I think that's just how Jess is."

"I know...but…." She sighed. "I was so happy that the two of them came home safely yesterday. Mike was the one to tell us about it. Jess didn't talk at all about it to me.

"Well, I've brought the newspaper account for you all to read." He held the paper up for her to see. "Gary Morgan wrote a good description of what happened."

"Thank you, Mort. I'll read it later. Right now I must see about getting lunch on the table. Have a seat and make yourself at home. We'll eat in a little while."

"Thanks, Miss Daisy," he said, but instead of sitting down he followed her to the kitchen and talked to her about news from Laramie that had nothing to do with the gunfight.

Upstairs, Mike was determined to see his foster father. It wasn't good when Jess slept as long as he had today.

In fact, Jess had a terrible night. About midnight, another coughing attack jerked him awake. Slim heard him and came to help him. When the coughing stopped Jess was in so much pain he asked for a dose of laudanum. The painkilling medication let him fall into a deep sleep. He woke just before noon. He was standing in front of the mirror over the washstand shaving when Mike stuck his head into the room.

"Can I come in?" Mike asked.

"Sure, Tiger. Good morning!"

"Morning?" he said, wrinkling his nose in thought and coming to stand beside Jess. "I guess you could still say that."

"Is it that late?"

"Aunt Daisy almost has lunch ready."

"I need to set the alarm clock so I can get up on time."

"Do you feel better today?"

"Yeah - thankfully."

"Then it was good you slept so long."

"You're right about that, cowboy."

Mike watched eagerly as Jess ran the razor over his cheek. "Do I have to wait for a long time before I can shave?" he asked.

Jess grinned and almost cut himself when he saw Mike imitating him with an imaginary razor. The boy was even watching him out of the corner of his eye so he could mimic his facial expressions.

"I think you got a while to go," he answered.

"Maybe it'll help if I practice doing it a lot."

"I don't think so, but you can try." Jess smeared a bit of shaving soap on the boy's cheek. "This might help."

"Yeah!" Mike said enthusiastically, spreading the soap around his face and then using his finger like a razor. "This is better! When I get old enough to shave, will I finally be grown up?"

"Almost. It sounds like you're in a mighty big hurry to get there."

"It's a lot better when you grow up," the boy said sagely.

"You think so?"

"Sure! Have you ever been the same age as me?"

"Yeah!" Jess said, "You think I hatched full-grown out of an egg or somethin'?"

"I mean when you were the same age as me, were you shaving yet?"

"No," Jess laughed. "I don't remember exactly when I started."

"Are you sure used to be as little as me? I think you've always been grown up."

"That ain't so!" Jess laughed again. "But - I didn't have anybody to talk to about the things you're asking about."

Mike was more interested in finishing his shave by washing the soap off his face than asking more questions about Jess' childhood. This was fine with Jess. He had no interest in talking about the hard times he'd had as a kid, especially with Mike.

Mike patted his face dry with a towel. "When I get big, I'm going to be just like you."

"You better wait a while before makin' up your mind about that. You might change your mind," Jess said putting on a fresh shirt.

"No, I won't. Are you always going to have to wear that bandage?"

"I hope not."

"You still hurt a lot, though."

"Sometimes."

"Like yesterday?"

"Yeah." Jess buttoned his shirt and stuffed it into his jeans. "How about helping me fix up this bed?" he asked. "It ain't so easy with one hand."

"Aunt Daisy will do that."

"She's not our maid, you rascal."

"Huh?"

"She's family, Mike, not a hired hand."

"I know that! But she told me you and Slim don't have to make up your beds - but I do!"

"Well, that's one of your chores. Me and Slim got other ones, but we ought'a do this when we can." He threw Mike a clean pillow case. "You can put this on better than me."

"Aunt Daisy just changed the sheets!" he said, puzzled and somewhat outraged by this excessive cleanliness.

"I got too hot last night," Jess dissimulated, "and I don't like sweaty pillows." He'd taken the blood-stained case off as soon as he got up.

Together they stripped the bed and tucked in clean sheets and covered everything with a colorful piecework quilt. Then Jess went over to the window and shoved it open to let in some fresh air. Outside, the November weather was cold and damp but he could see the hill behind the house through the mist. It made him think of his conversation with Slim a couple of days ago.

"It really is a peaceful place," he said softly to himself.

"What did you say?" Mike demanded from the other side of the bed.

"I said the fog has lifted," he answered, making sure to hide his sadness before he turned around. He felt scared that he'd fallen into such a dark place when Mike was nearby. He grabbed a second quilt off of a chair and folded it long ways at the foot of the bed.

Mike noticed. "I thought you got hot last night. What do you want another quilt for?"

"First I got hot, then I got cold, Mr. Nosey."

"Didn't you sleep good?"

"You can be a real pain in the neck, you know it?"

"Sorry...but did you sleep OK?"

"If you got to know, I did," Jess said, leaving out the part the dose of laudanum played. He added, "How was your night?" wanting to find out if Mike had heard him coughing.

"I sure did! I had a great dream!"

"What kind'a dream?"

"You and me had gone hunting. We rode all day and saw a huge herd of horses. When we got to the mountains, we ran into Sir Christopher and laughed at him for wearing a funny plaid jacket."

"You and Sir Christopher," Jess grinned.

"He was lost and we helped him find his old castle!"

"At least it wasn't a nightmare."

"I'm only dreaming nice dreams now."

"Well, that's good to hear."

"Yeah, now that Hal is dead. Before, I kept dreaming he came back and hurt you."

"I'm glad you're not havin' that dream anymore."

"Is Hal in hell now?"

"I don't know and I don't worry about it. I hope you don't either."

"Jess, I was really scared yesterday. Even more than when I was just dreaming about Hal. Does that...does that make me a...coward?"

"No!" Jess wrapped his arm around the boy and hugged him. "There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' scared. You're not a coward."

"But I want to be like you. You weren't afraid."

"You think I wasn't scared?"

"You didn't act like you were."

"Maybe you just didn't notice." Jess hugged him tighter. "You got to remember if we both hadn't been scared we wouldn't of survived it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at it this way - the right kind'a fear in a situation like that keeps us on our toes. Bein' scared and bein' a coward aren't the same thing. The right kind'a fear makes you think before you do somethin' dumb. It helps you size things up and find the best way out. Without it, you can get yourself killed by runnin' into something you could've got out of. A coward closes his eyes and pretends he can't help somebody that needs help when he can. He doesn't even try to solve the problem he's facin'. He just runs away from it."

"I didn't think about helping anybody else yesterday."

"Sure you did," Jess said smiling down at him, his eyes full of affection and pride. "Aren't you forgettin' you were tryin' to help me? You saved my life."

"I was just scared of Hal."

"Yeah, bein' afraid made you do what you could do to help me."

"I just wanted to run away."

"Is that what you did?"

"No, but only because you didn't."

"What would you have done it you were alone?"

"I don't know. I would have been so scared I would have died."

"I don't think so. Think about it a minute. If I hadn't been with you and you saw Hal, would you just of run away and pretended you didn't see him?"

"I wouldn't have done that! I would have gone to the sheriff or home or somewhere and told somebody to go catch Hal."

"You see? What did we do - you and me?"

"We… Oh! I see what you mean! We went and told Sheriff Corey about him!?"

"If you get in a tight spot, you got to decide if you can handle it alone or if you need help. If you jump into somethin' with thinkin' about it or without knowin' what you're gettin' into, you're probably goin' to get hurt and get other folks hurt, too."

"Like what I did when I left the jail cell after you told me not to."

"Yeah. That was dangerous but you'd never been in a situation like that before. I bet you never do it again."

Mike shook his head. "Never!" he vowed.

"I hope nothin' like that happens again."

"You and me both." Jess ran his hand back and forth in Mike's hair. Mike turned and twisted his head under his foster father's hand, savoring his touch, enjoying the relief of Jess' assurance that he wasn't the coward he'd feared he was.

Jess released the boy and reached for the medicine bottle holding the tablets Dan had given him yesterday. He fished a pill out and swallowed it with a long drink of water.

Mike watched him, suddenly worried. "Are you taking that pill because...you're hurting?"

"No, it's just to help things work better. I got pretty tired yesterday."

Mike took the brown bottle and tried to decipher the label on it but gave up. "Can you read this?"

"No, Doc Higgins is probably the only one who can."

"What kind of language is it?"

"Latin, probably."

"Latin? Nobody can read that can they?"

"Maybe that's the point."

"I don't understand."

"That's OK. Sometimes it's better not to understand everything." His vivid blue eyes met Mike's brown ones. "I don't."

Mike laughed, relieved once again, this time by Jess' confession, but he quickly reverted to being serious. "Do you still have to take a lot of the other kind of medicine?"

"Not much. Only when I don't feel good."

"But you're OK now, right?"

"Don't worry about me, Tiger."

Jess didn't have the heart to talk to him about Colorado Springs right now. He was glad that after yesterday's experience the boy could talk to him openly about whatever was on his mind. He didn't want him to have to deal with another to shock right now, even though he knew no matter how long he waited it would be hard to make the boy understand without breaking his heart.

"I might be a doctor when I grow up," Mike said. "Then I can help you if you get sick again - and I'll be able to read what's on a medicine bottle! Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Sure, if that's what you want to do, you ought to do it."

"I'll have to study a lot, won't I?"

"Yeah, I think so. But you'll have to do that no matter what you do."

"Do you think I can be a doctor?"

"I don't see any reason why not."

"But I'd rather be like you."

"You can do that and still be a doctor."

"How could I be a doctor and run a ranch, too?"

"It'd keep you busy, that's for sure. Both are full-time jobs."

"Yeah…" Trying to decide between the two jobs was making Mike's head ache.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it right now, Mike," Jess said. "You got a lot of time to make up your mind. Heck, you might want to run a train or build a bridge. There's a lot of things you can do. Right now all you need to do is go to school and study hard."

"I'd rather know right now!"

"I can tell," Jess said grinning. "But in a couple of years you'll remember what I'm tellin' you now and you'll be glad you took my advice."

"You know a whole lot, Jess. Did you learn all that in school?"

"Nah. I learned from experience and a lot of hard knocks. But I want you to have it easier than I did."

"You didn't have it easy?"

"No. I'll tell you about it some other time."

"Did you know you were going to be like you are today?"

"I never thought about it."

"Well, I'm glad you're the way you are and not like Mr. Courtney. He gets drunk and beats Danny. I wouldn't love somebody like that."

"I don't blame you."

"Jess, will you go hunting in the mountains with me soon?" Mike said in a sudden switch of topics.

"You're still thinkin' about that dream and Sir Christopher, right?"

"Oh, you!" He gave Jess a playful shove. "I want to go because it's so exciting when we're in the mountains."

"I'm afraid we won't be goin' anytime soon, Mike."

"Why? Because winter is coming or because you're sick?"

"Both."

"But some day you'll be well, again and we'll go, won't we?"

"Sure we will."

Jess realized he was missing a good time to talk to Mike about Colorado Springs but he couldn't make himself do it. The noisy rattle of an incoming stage came in through the open window and gave him a reason to postpone things.

"That's the stage from Cheyenne!" he said, surprised. "It's noon already!"

"That's what I said when I came in here!" Mike replied with some exasperation.

Jess reached up to close the window but intense pain shot through his chest and caused him to gasp and double over.

"Wait, I'll help you!" Mike immediately ran over and pulled the window down, looking at Jess concern.

"It's...not bad," Jess said, fighting for enough breath to speak. "I forget I need to be more careful." He forced an innocent grin and ran his hand through Mike's hair again. "Don't worry."

"You _have_ to be more careful or you'll never get better!"

"You're right." He tasted blood in his mouth but ignored it, swallowing it down. "Why don't you go down and see who's on the stagecoach?

"The sheriff's downstairs, too."

"Mort's here?"

"Yeah. He said he needs you to finish his report."

"Well, we better not keep him waitin'."

"We got time. He's staying to eat."

"Combinin' duty and pleasure again, huh?" Jess forced another grin. "You go on down. I'll be right behind you."

"Why can't you come now? We cleaned up the bed better than Aunt Daisy could."

"You got that right. Now get a move on."

Mike got the feeling Jess was trying to get rid of him. "Are you coming, too?"

"In a minute."

The boy shrugged and shook his head but reluctantly obeyed. Out in the hall, he heard muffled coughing coming from Jess' room. He wanted to go back and help his foster father but he knew Jess had deliberately sent him away so he wouldn't see how sick he was. Jess always acted like he was alright in front of him but Mike wasn't easily fooled. The boy's face fell and he bit his lip, close to tears as he stood in front of Jess' door, not knowing what to do.

Fortunately, the attack was not a bad one but when Jess saw fresh blood on the pillow he's covered his mouth with, he realized it was worse than he wanted it to be. He rummaged through a drawer and found two large handkerchiefs he'd never had to use before. _"It's really time for me to get out of here,"_ he thought, stuffing the handkerchiefs in his pocket while taking a look at himself in the mirror. It shocked him to see how emaciated his body looked. Seeing the reality of his condition made him more determined than ever to protect Mike from knowing how sick he really was, no matter how hard that was to do.

END OF CHAPTER 26


	27. Chapter 27

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 27

Later that afternoon, despite Slim's strong protests, Jess helped install the pump, then took a bath and washed his hair. Being clean after the terrible day yesterday felt good to him. So did sitting in the warm kitchen at the table, cleaning his gun. Mike crouched in a chair near him and helped him if he got in trouble when he needed more than one hand.

Jess always cleaned his Colt with utmost care. His safety depended on it. He emptied the cartridge chamber and placed three live bullets and three empty casings in front of him on the red-checkered tablecloth.

"Jess," Mike asked hesitantly, unsure if Jess would like his request, "can I have the three empty ones?"

"What do you want 'em for?"

"I want to save them."

"Since when do you collect cartridge cases?"

"I don't. I just...want to save these."

"You want a souvenir?"

"Yes. Please…?"

"You want'a remember yesterday more than I do."

"Can I keep them?"

"Mike, two people were killed yesterday. I don't think it's a good idea for you to keep that kind of souvenir."

"I'm not forgetting. I just want to save them."

"And I want you to forget everything that happened as quick as you can."

"I can't. If I did, I'd have to forget you, too."

That took Jess by surprise. "I guess you got a point."

"Can I keep them?"

"I ain't sure it's right, but… If I say no, you might not understand why. You can keep 'em but you got to promise not to go around showin' 'em off."

"I won't. I'll just keep them." He picked up the case and let them roll around in his open hand. "You know, when I look at them, it doesn't hurt so much when I think about what he did to you. But I'll never forget it! Never!"

Jess smiled wistfully and ran his hand over the boy's head. Even though Hal and that part of the past were dead, it didn't change what they both had to face in the future. "Do me a favor, Tiger, and try to forget it now and then."

"I can't. Can you?"

Jess was quiet for a moment, thinking about how to answer. "I got to live with it, Mike. Just like you do. Except I have a hard time forgettin' what happened to you."

"Then you and me are just alike, aren't we?"

Jess nodded slowly, his face softening.

"Slim is like us."

"What'd you mean?"

"He can't forget either."

"I guess you're right about that."

"I am!" Mike didn't notice how Jess' face closed up. "He's keeping the bullet with him."

"How do you know that?"

"I just know. He always puts it in his shirt pocket."

"Yeah. I've seen him do that." His voice was rough. "He should throw it away."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like him draggin' it around with him."

"Why is he keeping it? As a souvenir?"

"If it is, it's a lousy one."

"Yeah." Mike shivered. "That bullet was inside you. Yuk!"

"I bet he doesn't like thinkin' about it any more than you do."

"So why does he keep it?"

"Maybe he keeps it to make himself feel bad."

"That doesn't make sense."

"No argument there. Don't ask me to explain it."

"Maybe I should ask Slim about it."

"I wouldn't."

"Well, maybe I will later."

"You're a stubborn little cuss, ain't you?"

"Curious!" Mike shot back. "Why don't you want a souvenir? Don't you want to remember?"

Jess jerked his thumb toward his chest. "What kind of souvenir you think this is?"

"I forgot about that!" Mike cried, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry. Are you mad at me?"

"No, but quit talkin' about souvenirs. You're gettin' to keep the cartridges. That's enough."

"OK," Mike said meekly.

Jess ran his face over his face, wiping away the tension of the conversation just as Daisy walked into the kitchen. She noticed the empty blue and white cup next to him and asked, "Would you like some more coffee?'

"Sure. Thanks, Daisy," he said gratefully, spooning an extra amount of sugar into the cup. "This cold weather makes hot coffee taste real good".

"You were outside too long," she said, smiling back at him.

"You don't get cold when you're workin' hard."

"I hope you didn't overdo it again. And you should be extra careful with that wet hair."

"Don't worry about that. I'm stayin' in here where it's warm."

She touched him lightly on the shoulder as she walked past him on her way back to the living room and her sewing kit.

"Aunt Daisy is always worrying about something," Mike groused.

"She's just tryin' to take care of us. It makes her happy."

"Sometimes I don't like it."

"I like it a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's bein' a mother to all of us. I wouldn't be complainin' about it if I were you. She does a lot for you."

"Aw, I didn't mean it like that. She's just about the only lady I like."

"Wait 'til you get your first girlfriend."

"I don't like girls at all!"

Jess grinned. "I've heard you say that more than once."

"It's true! They're silly!"

"In a couple of years, you'll change your mind about that."

"You're pulling my leg."

"Just wait."

Jess reassembled his Colt and checked out the trigger mechanism until he was satisfied the gun was in top working order.

Mike watched him carefully. "I'm glad you can shoot so good," he said, relief in his voice.

"You are?"

"Yeah. If you couldn't, we might have been killed yesterday. The sheriff, too."

"Maybe."

"Even the sheriff said you shoot better than anybody he ever saw." He hesitated, biting his lip, knowing what he was going to ask was risky, but then he went ahead. "Can I hold your gun - just once?"

Jess brows furrowed together in a dark frown. "I hope you ain't serious."

"I am!"

"This gun ain't a toy, Mike!"

"But it's not loaded now…"

"It don't matter. You're not goin' to play around with it."

"But…"

"But nothin'! A gun is a dangerous tool. You've seen for yourself the damage it can do. Handlin' it for fun ain't goin' to happen. I already told you that more than once."

"I'm sorry. I was being dumb."

"Not dumb. Just not thinkin'."

"I'm still glad you can shoot good," Mike insisted.

"Sometimes it can help you. Sometimes it can get you into a lot of trouble."

"How come?"

"If you're wearin' one, things can go bad in a hurry and you can be forced to use it when you don't want to. Like yesterday. People can end up dead."

"But you didn't start it."

"No, I never started a fight. But I've had to defend myself. And now I'm wonderin' if I even ought to do that…." He broke off abruptly. "Forget it. I don't need to be talkin' about this with you."

Mike didn't agree. "Have you shot a lot of men?"

"You're askin' too many questions today."

"How did you learn to shoot like you do?"

"A lot of practice over a lot of years."

"Is it hard?"

"No! It's easy."

"Then I can learn how to do it, right?"

Jess stared at him hard. "If you're willin' to be responsible for what you do with it."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Then I won't teach you until you do. But I'd just as soon you never learned."

"Why not?"

"I been through a lot of bad things because of guns, Mike. Don't ask me what they were."

"But I can still learn to shoot, can't I?"

"If you want me to I'll teach you. Better you learn from me than somebody else."

"When I'm old enough?"

"When you got sense enough to know how to handle it. That ain't got nothin' to do with how old you are."

"But how will I know when I got sense enough? When I learn to like girls?"

"No. It'll be when you can understand what I just said to you."

"But how will I know if I understand?"

"You'll know. Trust me."

"I do!" He already felt more grown up because Jess was talking to him like this. "I just want to be like you. You always know what's right."

"Not always."

"You did yesterday."

"I'm not always sure what's right, Mike. I just try to do the right thing so I can keep on respectin' myself."

"Phew…" Mike complained. "That sounds hard."

"Yeah, it is sometimes."

"I'm afraid I'll never learn everything."

"Sure you will." Jess reached out and ran his hand over the boy's blonde hair again. "It takes time to learn it all."

"I know… I'll understand when I grow up."

"That's the way it is."

"I hope it all fits inside my head," he said, resigned.

Jess laughed. "You're goin' to like it."

Mike smiled, his good humor restored. "You bet I will!"

END OF CHAPTER 27


	28. Chapter 28

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 28

When the dishes were put away after supper, Mike finally persuaded Jess to let him read the Laramie Chronicle's report of the gunfight out loud to him and Daisy. He found it hard to understand why his foster father showed so little interest in the newspaper article.

Jess was feeling bad again. He didn't say anything but piled up pillows on the sofa bed under the living room window lay down. Even in the warm glow of the kerosene lamps and the wood fire, he seemed strikingly pale. He was tired. The work on the pump and the patience needed to handle the conversation with Mike had taken a toll on his physical and emotional resources.

As he lay against the pillows, he took in the homey atmosphere of the room, knowing this was probably one of the last evenings he would spend with his family. Peaceful moments like these with the people he trusted most were more precious to him than ever. Going to Colorado Springs wouldn't be so hard if he knew for sure he would be coming back. Before he'd met Slim, he'd been a drifter, never staying in one place for very long. Even now, he didn't mind being away from the ranch on business trips or long cattle drives - he needed to get back out into the Big Open now and then - but tonight he needed the security of being with his family.

He felt deep sadness when he thought about having to go to the sanatorium with no hope of ever coming home again, but he knew he had no choice. His condition had worsened in the last few days. The coughing, the pain and the constant fatigue made it very hard for him to exert himself at all.

He tried to listen to Mike who was enthusiastically reading the long article from the LARAMIE CHRONICLE, but he really wasn't interested in it. Instead, he watched Daisy. She was sitting at the living room table sewing by the light of a large oil lamp. She'd finished replacing buttons on shirts and mending trousers, and now she was busy making new curtains for the kitchen windows, the first of new curtains throughout the house.

Jess knew she was the one who was responsible for the decorative touches that had been added to the place. He and Slim had learned to give her an absolutely free hand, mostly because she couldn't be swayed once she'd made up her mind on something she wanted to be done. Besides, both Jess and Slim privately admitted she was right. Things had needed to be spruced up.

 _"_ _I need to talk to Slim about getting one of those new sewing machines for her for Christmas,"_ Jess thought. A smile played around his mouth when he imagined her surprise. The smile died when he remembered he wouldn't be there to see her reaction.

Mike's voice broke into his thoughts. "Jess," he asked, having noticed that Jess wasn't listening to him, "are you feeling OK?"

"I'm fine," Jess instantly replied. "Keep on goin'."

Mike gave him a skeptical look over the top of the newspaper he was holding. He started reading again but with less enthusiasm. He knew his foster father wasn't as well as he pretended to be. When he came to the end of the page he struggled to fold the paper so he could read the next column of the article and said, "I think Mr. Morgan did a great job writing about what happened!"

"What'd you say?" Jess murmured half-asleep.

"You haven't been paying attention!" Mike complained, half-mad and half-worried.

"Sure I have. I was just listenin'."

Mike didn't believe him, but Jess looked so sick and weak he didn't say anything. He felt too sorry for him. "Are you sure you're really OK?" he asked again.

"What did you want to know?"

"Nothing!" Mike exclaimed. "I just said Mr. Morgan did a good job writing about what happened."

"Yeah, he's got a talent for it."

"It sounded like he was really there."

"Mort probably told him all about it."

"I bet he could write a good ghost story!"

Jess laughed but paid for it with a sharp stab of pain in his chest. Still, laughing made him feel better. "You and Sir Christopher," he teased. "I bet you look for him under your bed every night before you go to sleep."

"No, I don't! You're making fun of me!"

"No, I ain't! Why don't you keep on readin' so we can hear the end of this story before tomorrow morning?"

"But you have to pay attention!"

"OK."

Mike looked at him skeptically. He wasn't sure he really meant what he said, but he decided to continue. After a little while, he broke off and exclaimed, "The next part's my favorite! It's about when you saved the sheriff's life!" When there was no response, he lowered the paper to look at Jess. "I thought so!" he said in disgust. "He's gone to sleep at the most exciting part!"

Mike refolded the paper so he could read the next column, hoping Jess was just teasing. But Jess wasn't pretending. He was sound asleep, his head tilted to the side, his face deeply relaxed as his chest calmly rose and fell. Mike wasn't convinced. He got up and leaned over Jess so he could run his hand back and forth close to his foster father's face, trying to get a reaction from him.

"Shh..." Daisy's voice stopped the boy. "Just let him sleep, Mike."

Daisy had been watching for this. She knew Jess was very tired even though he'd slept late that morning.

"I can't believe he really went to sleep!" Mike complained.

"Not so loud, Mike, or you'll wake him up again." She fetched a woven Navajo blanket from an armchair and gently placed it over the sleeping man. "Come over here by me so you won't bother him."

Mike obeyed without comment and sat down beside her at the table. "How could he fall asleep when what I was reading was so exciting?"

"He's very tired."

"But he slept almost to lunchtime, and now he's tired again, and it's not that late."

"You must remember that he is too ill to do everything he did today. Helping Slim with the pump was too much for him."

"Aunt Daisy, sometimes I get scared he won't ever get well and be like he used to be."

"Oh, he'll get well, but it will take a very long time."

"That's kind'a sad, you know?"

"Yes, Mike, it is sad, but it would be worse if he… I mean, if…"

"...if he had died?" Mike said tentatively. "That would have been awful. I think I would have died, too. But anyway…," the boy quickly changed the subject, "...it would be great if he could be like he was before."

Daisy looked up from her sewing. "Even if he never is like he was before, would you still love him?"

"I'll always love Jess, no matter what! But I wish he didn't hurt so much. It makes me hurt, too. I don't know why."

"Well," Daisy said, smiling gently, "when you love someone sometimes you feel what they feel."

"How come?"

"I don't know, Mike. Sometimes if we try too hard to understand the feelings we have for each other, we might hurt those feelings, or even destroy them. The most important thing is to know you can love someone so much that you can feel their joy - and their pain."

Mike didn't understand, but he followed her advice stopped asking about it. All he really wanted was to enjoy the happiness of loving Jess with all his heart and knowing he was loved in return.

"I wish I could help Jess get better," he said.

"You help him more than you think you do."

"I don't do anything."

"You love him, that's enough."

"I don't understand that either," Mike sighed, reluctantly accepting that there was a frontier in him where comprehension ended.

Daisy stroked his cheek. "Understanding the heart isn't so important. What's more important is to listen to it."

"Well…." He picked up the newspaper again. "Before it gets more complicated, I'd better read the rest of Mr. Morgan's report to you. It's great!"

Daisy threw her head back, laughing. "I've read it myself," she said, "But I'm sure it sounds much more exciting when you read it."

Mike shook out the paper. "You got to promise not to go to sleep while I'm reading it or I won't even start."

"I promise," she declared, knowing the article was appropriate reading for him only because he had lived through it himself. She was glad she could face it with him.

Mike took a breath to start reading but stopped when the door of the study opened, and Slim came out.

"Jess, do you have a ….," the rancher began, but two energetic "Shhh's…," silenced him in mid-sentence and directed his attention to his partner, asleep on the couch.

"I'm not surprised. How long has he been sleeping?"

"Just a few minutes," Daisy said.

"He went to sleep when I was reading the newspaper report - at the most exciting part!" Mike piped up.

"He should have gone to bed," Slim said, frowning.

"I'm glad he was able to relax."

"Why? What happened?" Slim asked anxiously, thinking something had gone wrong.

"It's alright," she answered. "I think he just overdid it when he helped you with the pump."

"I couldn't stop him. He's as stubborn as a mule."

"Slim!"

"You know it's true."

"And you're just like him!"

"I…." Slim started to defend himself but decided to let it go. He sighed. "You're right. I can be hard headed, too - sometimes."

"Slim," Mike broke in, "if you sit down with us, I'll read Mr. Morgan's report to you, too. It's very exciting." Mike offered his service as if it were a fresh oatmeal cookie.

"That's, OK, Tiger," Slim said, not wanting to hear the article. "I read the headline."

"I can read you the whole thing."

"Not now, Mike. I've got some more paperwork to do. I'll read it later."

"Well, don't throw the paper away after you read it. I want to save it."

"Save it?"

"Yep! Like a souvenir. Jess said I could."

"Well, if Jess said so," Slim said smiling at him, "then I can't say no."

"It's just the casings."

"I guess if Jess said you could have them it's OK. He knows what he's doing."

"Wouldn't you have let me keep them?"

"Me? I suppose so. As long as you don't have the real ones."

"Like you do? The one that hurt him?"

Slim's face tightened, and his hand went reflexively to the bullet in his pocket. Every time he touched it, he pushed it against his skin until it hurt him.

"That's different," he said grimly, his voice low and harsh.

"I told Jess I thought it was kind of strange that you kept it," Mike rattled on. "It would burn a hole in me!" he said, drawing a big circle on his chest to underscore his words.

"Yeah. It burns like hell."

"Then why do you keep it?"

"Because… That's not the kind of question you need to be asking!"

"I asked Jess why you did it."

"I'd be surprised if he came up with the right answer."

"Do you have an answer?"

Slim stared at him, frowning, deep in thought. "Not one you'd understand," he finally replied.

"Maybe I would understand."

"Is that what Jess thinks?"

"No. He told me I don't understand some things yet. He doesn't either. He doesn't why you keep it but he thought maybe it's to make you feel bad when...when...you think about...what happened. Is that right?"

"No! It's not!" Slim was close to anger. "Why don't you get on with reading that newspaper article and quit asking so many questions. And don't think you can stay up late just because Jess is asleep."

"Yes, sir!"

Mike's reaction made Slim realize he'd been too hard on him, but the boy had hit a very sore nerve. "Well, ten minutes or so won't make a difference." He forced a smile and his voice softened. "After all, it's Saturday night."

Mike's face brightened instantly, glad Slim wasn't mad at him. "I'll read fast so I can go to bed on time," he promised eagerly.

"Just don't go too fast. Daisy might miss the best parts." He turned, ready to escape back into his office.

"I'm sorry for asking so many questions, Slim," Mike called after him, his young voice meek and a little scared. "I...I didn't mean to make you mad."

"It's OK, Mike. You didn't do anything wrong," Slim assured him with a sweet, sad smile. "You know, sometimes I get louder than I mean to. I'm not mad at you so don't make Daisy wait any longer to hear that story of yours."

After Mike went to bed, Daisy went to Slim's office to let him know she was going to bed, too, and to remind him not to stay up half the night working on the books.

Slim looked up at her but didn't put his pencil down. "I want to finish figuring out how much an option for the new land will cost us. If we get it next year, we could increase the herds by five hundred head, maybe a thousand."

"Don't you want to talk it over with Jess?"

"Sure. I've already talked to him about it. It'll mean a lot of extra work, but if we can do it, it'll be worth it."

"But what if Jess… Slim, I hate to even think about it...but you have to consider…. I mean, it could be that he… that he doesn't get well...that he doesn't come home again."

Slim looked down. "I know Daisy." He toyed with the pencil. "If that happened, nothing would matter anyway."

"Oh, Slim, I know how you feel. I felt like that when my son died in the war and when my husband died, too. But I learned something. Life goes on. Unexpected things happened, good things. After all I lost, I found you and Jess and Mike - and a new life."

"Sure. But it's hard for me to make plans that don't include him. He's been part of everything for so many years… I wouldn't enjoy it without him."

"Perhaps one day you'll have your own family."

"I can't even imagine that right now."

"You still have Mike to think about."

"Yeah, but Mike isn't Jess. I see Jess in him, though."

"Does it surprise you he's so much like Jess?"

"A little. Mike's not really blood kin to him."

"Does that make a difference?"

"I think so."

"Slim, not all children born to their natural parents are like them. Mike is learning from Jess and sometimes acts just like him. I don't think they could be closer if they were actually father and son."

"You're right, Daisy." He leaned back in his big leather chair and stared at the empty chair on the other side of the desk, wondering if might be empty forever. "But I don't think Jess has talked to him yet. I think he's ducking it."

"Do you really think so?"

"No, but it's a hard thing for him to do."

"Yes, it is, but he'll find a way to do it." She lifted her head in sudden determination. "And I believe he'll come home, too! And you must think the same thing! Otherwise, you wouldn't be working on enlarging the ranch next year."

Slim smiled a little. "You're right again. After all" he said, joking in an attempt to lighten the mood, "somebody's got to help me with all this work."

Daisy laid her hand on his shoulder. "Well then, perhaps you should go ahead and make your decision about the land now."

He grasped her hand with one of his. "Thanks, Daisy. The numbers look good. When Jess sees them he'll know he has to go to Colorado Springs as fast as he can so he can get back as soon as he can. We couldn't have gotten this far without his help."

"I pray for him every day."

"I haven't always been so sure about God, but I'm praying for him, too. I hope the Lord will hear me even if I am one of his lost sheep."

"The dear Lord doesn't lose any of his sheep," she said, her eyes shining with warmth as she looked at him.

"I hope that's true. I know I don't want to lose Jess." He slammed the account book closed for emphasis, got up and blew out the lamp, then left the office with his arm around Daisy's shoulders.

Daisy took her lamp from the living room table and went up to bed while Slim roused a very weary Jess and helped him up the stairs. He settled him in bed but throughout the night he heard Jess wheezing and coughing and got up several times to check up him. Toward morning Jess' coughing finally subsided. Slim suspected he'd taken a dose of laudanum so he could get some sleep.

Despite his bad night, Jess came down for breakfast with everyone else, but he was withdrawn and looked very sick. Right after breakfast, he decided to lie down again. He climbed the stairs to his room hanging on the handrail and swaying so much Daisy had to resist the urge to go help him.

He got up again for lunch, but for the rest of the day he lay on the day couch and said very little to anyone. The sadness in his eyes conveyed his feelings more than any words could have.

After supper, Mike went up to his room earlier than usual. Not knowing what to make of Jess' withdrawn mood, he decided to read a book about Sir Christopher's adventures in distant Scotland, but even his favorite story failed to distract him from his worry about his foster father. He seemed to be getting worse every day.

Soon after Mike disappeared into his room, Jess got up and walked toward the stairs. "I think I'll go on upstairs, too," he said. "I might as well instead of lyin' around down here."

"You need to talk to him, Jess," Slim said gently.

"Yeah…," he said, his voice low and rough, "that's what I'm about to do." Despite his words, he hesitated at the foot of the stairs, his hand on the handrail.

Slim came up behind him. "Are you OK? Do you need some help?"

"I'm fine," Jess said, glancing back at him. He straightened his shoulders. "I'll go on to bed after I talk to him."

Slim and Daisy watched him, their eyes shadowed with worry, as he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the dim hallway on the second floor.

When Jess got to Mike's door, he hesitated again, wondering if talking to Mike was the best thing to do but then his mouth tightened. He closed his eyes and sent a short, intense prayer heavenward asking that he find the right words to say, then he took as deep as breath as his wound would allow and knocked on Mike's door.

After Mike called out, "Come in!", Jess walked into the room and found the boy propped up in bed, his nose buried in his Sir Christopher book. The boy immediately dropped it when he saw his foster father.

"Jess!" he cried happily. "You're just in time! Let me read you this part of the story! It's really exciting - and scary!"

"No, Mike. Not now."

"Aww…"

"Sir Christopher wouldn't be much fun for me tonight."

"Really?" Mike's face fell. "Is something wrong? Can I keep the book? I mean, do you want me to quit reading it?"

"No. You can read it as much as you want to." Jess came over and set down on the edge of the bed beside him. "It's just… Well, tonight I got somethin' I want to talk to you about."

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, full of anxiety. "I haven't lied or ridden Browny real fast. And I only rode him in the pasture like you told me to."

Jess ran his hand over the boy's hair and tried to smile at him. "Don't worry. You ain't done nothin' wrong."

"But yesterday I asked for the bullet casings. I'll throw them away if you want me to."

"No. I told you you could keep them, and that still goes, OK?"

"I guess so."

"So…" Jess put his arm around the boy's shoulders and drew him close. "This ain't about Sir Christopher or anything else." He struggled to find a way to start. "This is about...something serious."

"It's because I did something bad! Because I wanted you to show me how to shoot, right?"

"No, Mike. I ain't about you. It's...it's about me."

"About you?" Mike was confused. "Did you do something wrong?"

"No! Neither one of us has done anything wrong! It's just that I...I...have to go ...away."

"Away? You're going away? Why? Don't you like it here?"

"I like it here a lot."

"Then why do you want to leave?"

"I don't want to. I got to."

"You're going to take me with you, aren't you?" It was an accusation. He was close to tears.

"No, Mike. It don't work that way."

"But…but...why not?" Mike's voice was fraying.

"I can't take you where I'm goin'."

"But, _where_ are you going? And why do you have to go at all?"

"Because...I can't stay here. I...I...can't get well here, that's why. You understand?" Jess knew he was fumbling badly but he couldn't seem to help it.

Mike stared wordlessly at him and shook his head. When he found his voice, he whispered, "Are you still so sick?"

"Yeah, I am."

"But I thought you were getting better."

"I'm better than I was...but...how can I explain this?" Jess wiped his hand over his face, feeling helpless before Mike's innocent, anxious questions. "Look," he said, "I was wounded real bad and not just where you can see it…"

"On the inside, too. That's why you're coughing so much and still have a lot of pain."

"You noticed, huh?"

"And you're always tired," Mike added, ignoring his comment. "But why do you have to leave?"

"Doc Higgins says it's because of the weather."

"The weather?"

"The weather we've been havin'. I can't take this cold, wet winter."

"But it's been like that before and it's never bothered you."

"Usually, it don't bother me but since I'm so sick, it can…" He broke off but to his surprise, Mike finished the sentence for him.

"...it can make you sicker, and maybe even… maybe you could… If you leave, will you get well?"

"I hope so."

Mike didn't notice the evasive answer. "Where do you have to go?" he asked, his voice full of tears.

"To Colorado Springs."

"Is that very far away?"

"About two hundred and fifty miles."

"That sounds really, really far away!"

"Nah, it's not that bad. The Canadian border is four times farther away and Calgary is more than that. I've been on cattle drives to both those places."

"But this is different! Where is Colorado Springs?"

"It's about seventy or eighty miles south of Denver."

"And the weather is different there?"

"It's a little dryer there."

"Why does that matter?"

"Well, it's not just the weather. Doc Higgins says there's another doctor there that can help me."

"Can't Doc Higgins help you anymore?"

"No."

"I don't understand.

"I know. But I have to go as soon as I can."

"When?" Mike asked, dreading the answer.

"In the next couple of days."

"Can't you wait a little longer? I don't want you to go!"

"I don't want to go either, Mike. But if I want to get well, I have to. You want me to get well, don't you?"

Mike nodded slowly, feeling like he was caught in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. When Hal was killed, he thought it was over. He thought he could feel happy and safe again, but he'd been telling himself a fairy tale that was more fanciful than Sir Christopher's haunted castle in Scotland.

"Do you...do you have to go away for a long time?" he asked hesitantly, clutching Jess' arm with both hands. He felt like he was standing at the edge of a black hole. There was a sickening emptiness in his stomach and a terrifying fear that Jess would slip into that abyss and be lost to him forever. He had to hold onto him with all his strength but he knew it wasn't enough. He was going to have to watch helplessly as his foster father fell into the darkness and was dashed to pieces. "Tell me!" he cried. "Will you be away for a long time?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How long?"

"I don't know. Probably for a couple of months."

"That's too long!" Mike shouted. "You won't be here for Christmas."

"No."

"That...that makes me so sad…" The boy sniffed, trying to hold back his tears. "Can't you wait to go until after Christmas?"

"I can't. I have to go now or..." Jess wondered if he should go ahead and say it - Mike already knew it anyway.

"...or it'll be too late and you might...you might...you'd never…." Mike couldn't finish the sentence. A gigantic lump clogged his throat.

"Yeah, that could happen," Jess said. His throat was closing up, too.

"But you will...you will...come back?" Mike choked out, beginning to realize the full extent of what Jess' going to Colorado Springs really meant.

"Sure," Jess said, swallowing hard after he said the word.

"You mean it? You promise?"

Their eyes met, both full of the sadness of losing the person most dear to them in all the world. For a few seconds, Jess weighed what he should do. He didn't want to make a promise he might not be able to keep. But then he said, "I promise," justifying this by the promise he'd gotten from Slim to bring him home even if it was in a wooden box. He didn't feel good about this deception but he knew Mike couldn't deal with the reality of the situation right now.

"Word of honor?" Mike insisted.

"Word of honor!" Jess smiled and hugged the boy tighter until his wound started to ache, hurting him like the guilt of his convoluted promise.

"Then…," Mike said tearfully, "..."I'll just pretend you're on a cattle drive to Calgary."

"That's a good idea, Tiger. The time'll pass as fast as a jackrabbit runnin' from a coyote! I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish you were back already. Can't I go with you?"

"No, it don't work that way. And I don't want that either…"

"Why not? I could go to school there. Please?"

"It's a kind of hospital. You...you just got to stay here."

"Can I visit?"

"No! I don't want that either."

"But it's not very far. Just for a few days. Then I'll know you're OK and… Please! Please take me with you!"

Mike's frantic pleading was almost too much for Jess but he knew he couldn't give in. "I can't do it, Mike. It ain't possible. You got to trust me. I'll come back as soon as I can. That's what's best for both of us."

"I don't think it is!" Mike buried his head in Jess' shoulder. "It would be better if you weren't sick at all, Then you wouldn't be hurting and you wouldn't have to go away."

"That's something we can't change."

"I wish those men had never come here!"

"Me, too. But they did. We got to make the best of it."

"I can't!"

"I'm sick. Real sick. I might not get well even in Colorado Springs."

"Then you should just stay here."

"I won't have any chance of gettin' well if I do that."

"...you'll...you'll ...die soon?" His chest was so tight he could hardly breathe.

"Like I told you, I can't get well if I stay here. And I know you want me to get well."

"When Amalie Wingate's grandfather died last year, her parents told her he had to take a long trip but wouldn't have any more pain. Is that the trip you're going to make?"

"Is that what I said?"

"No, but maybe you're trying to tell me something like that. I'm not a stupid girl you can tell fairy tales to."

"You're right. And I'm not Amalie's grandfather. I hope we got that settled."

"Nothing's settled!" Mike cried and pressed closer to him. "Jess...I...I'm afraid you won't come back."

"You don't need to be afraid of that," Jess said, trying to soothe him even though he knew he wasn't telling the exact truth. "I promised you I will."

"But what if you can't keep your promise? That could happen. It wouldn't be your fault. What about that?"

"That ain't goin' to happen. I'll come back. I guarantee it."

Mike desperately wanted to believe him but matter how convincing Jess sounded there was something deep inside of him that warned the boy against believing all would be well. It wasn't because he doubted Jess' word; that would never occur to him. What he feared was something dark and unpredictable, something that lurked about like a wild animal hiding in the shadows, ready to attack and rip him and the ones he loved into bloody pieces. He couldn't see it but he felt its presence with every nerve in his body.

"I'll miss you so much," he sobbed, pushing his face against Jess' neck.

"I'll miss you, too, Tiger. A lot." Jess brushed his hand gently back and forth over the boy's hair. "But remember, it ain't forever. When I come back, we'll go huntin' up in the mountains - just you and me. How'd you like to do that?"

"I wish I wasn't so scared. I don't to be but I am."

 _"_ _I'm glad you don't know how scared I am,"_ Jess thought, fighting to push back his own fears about the future. Out loud, he said, "Yeah, I know. But you still got to try to be brave. Soldiers fighin' in a war ain't the only ones who have to have courage."

"I can't be brave! When you're gone it'll only get worse! Please...please get well soon!" he begged, clinging so tightly Jess' wound started to ache.

"You got my word on it - I'll do everything I can to get back home as quick as I can. And I'll do that sooner if I am not worryin' about you. You got to stop bein' afraid."

"I can't!"

Jess reached under the boy's chin and raised his head so he could look into his eyes. "You can. You have to want to though. You can't ever give up - not on yourself or the people who mean somethin' to you. And you can't say you can't do somethin' until you've tried to do it, right?"

Jess knew he was telling Mike what he'd been trying to tell himself. They both needed to find the courage to face what they had to face despite their fears.

Mike looked down, chewing on his lower lip, thinking seriously about what Jess said. He nodded. "Yeah...I guess you're right. I'll try." His breath caught on a sob. "I'll try not to be afraid while you're gone."

"I'll be back as fast as I can." He meant it. "And you got to promise you'll listen to Slim and Aunt Daisy, OK?"

Mike just nodded, unable to speak and hold back his tears at the same time as he tried to show Jess how brave he was.

Jess was struggling against his own sadness but he went ahead, too. "And don't be worryin' about me. Everything is goin' to be alright. I promise."

Mike heard the sadness in Jess' voice and started sobbing again, leaving a damp spot on his foster father's shirt. This time Jess held him tightly against his chest and let him cry it out. After a while, he calmed down and lay in the comfort of Jess' arms, sniffling and wiping his face.

"Do you know what I want for Christmas?" he asked. "I know Santa Claus isn't real but if he was I want him to make you well again. Do you think I could have that?"

"Sure - but not by Christmas."

"When can I have it?"

"I don't know. Probably not until spring. Maybe longer."

Mike thought about this, trying to figure out how many hours and minutes that came to. He couldn't do it. It just seemed like forever to him. "I hope my wish come true," he said sadly.

"It will!" Jess hugged him again. "If you want something like that for somebody else, Santa Claus has got to bring it, even if it don't get here by Christmas."

 _"_ _I just wish it was that easy,"_ he thought to himself, as sad as Mike.

END OF CHAPTER 28


	29. Chapter 29

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 29

On Monday morning, Jess slept late and didn't come down for breakfast with the rest of the family. This was just as well because they were all gloomy and sad and had nothing much to say to each other. Mike asked why neither Slim or Daisy told him that Jess had to go away and received the unsatisfactory reply that Jess wanted to tell him himself. The boy reluctantly left for school only because he was given no other choice.

A little later, Jess came downstairs. Daisy made him a late breakfast and tried her best to get him to talk, but he was more withdrawn than ever. After talking to Mike last night, he'd had to face his own wrenching sorrow about leaving the boy - and everyone else. Now as he stared at the ham and eggs on his plate, all he felt was a profound, leadened grief. He ate less than half of the food in front of him, then alarmed Daisy by telling her he planned to ride to Laramie today.

"Do you really want to go in this bad weather?" she asked. "You're not doing well at all, no matter what you say."

"I got some things I got to take care of and not a lot of time to do it in. The weather ain't goin' to make me better or worse."

"What kind things to you have to do? You sound like you're planning to leave forever!"

"That might be the way it is."

"You shouldn't say such a thing!"

"I got no choice, and you know it."

Daisy seemed to collapse beneath his chilling, matter-of-fact facing of the truth. "Well," she said, meekly, "will you be back in time for lunch?"

"Yeah. I told Mike I'd pick him up at school."

He walked out the door and closed it behind him without another word, leaving Daisy standing helplessly in the living room, wringing her hands.

When Jess got to Laramie, he kept his head down and his black hat pulled low over his eyes. Going straight to Hanson's hardware, he got the old pump unloaded so it could be refurbished. Leaving the wagon there, he walked over to Burke Hershell's General Store and ordered the latest model of sewing machine to be delivered to Daisy by Christmastime. Then he headed for Doc Higgins' office. The walk there never seemed so long or so tiring. For once he was glad to see the whitewashed house behind the picket fence.

Higgins was surprised to see him. He'd already made plans to go out to the ranch after lunch to check on him. When he examined Jess and listened to his heart and lungs with his stethoscope, what he heard frightened him.

Jess noticed. "You don't like what you're hearin', do you?" he asked.

The look that Higgins gave him was both grave and regretful. "No, it's not good. How have you been feeling?" he asked after he'd finished his examination.

"Fair. No dizzy spells."

"Well, at least that's something positive."

"Sure," Jess said sarcastically. "Have you heard from Colorado Springs?"

"Yes. Tyler wants you there as soon as possible. Have you talked to Mike?"

"Yeah. Last night." Jess swallowed hard then forced himself to go on. "What else did Tyler tell you?"

Dan helped Jess back into his shirt then went to stand behind his desk. "Nothing that I didn't already know. You need to go to his sanitorium for treatment."

"Is there any point in it?"

"Of course there is but the journey will be hard on you. I told Jonathan that you'll leave here on Friday morning."

"Why wait until Friday?"

"Because the railway has the best connections from Cheyenne to Denver that day. You can leave on Friday and be in Colorado Springs by Saturday morning. It's the best chance you have of getting there safely."

"You got it all planned out."

"Yes. I don't want you to have to worry about anything except getting on the right train."

"Don't you trust me to get myself there?"

"Jess, the train ride itself will be exhausting for you. I just want to make it easy for you. You're a very sick man."

"No kiddin'."

Higgins kept on going. "When you get to Colorado Springs, someone will pick you up at the station and take you to the sanitorium. You won't have to worry about a thing."

"All part of the service, right?"

"Exactly. Jonathan takes very good care of his private patients - and our friendship has a part to play, too. He'll do his best for you."

"Sounds like a real pleasure trip."

"It's not going to be a vacation, but I don't believe it will be as bad as you think it's going to be. Jonathan is a kind-hearted man and I think you'll get along very well with him. And if you get special treatment from him because of our friendship, you should relax and enjoy it. There's another benefit, too. He's reducing the cost to two hundred and fifty dollars a week and that includes a personal attendant for you who will take of you exclusively."

"Is he goin' to hold my hand, too?" Jess mocked, not liking the idea of somebody following him around all the time.

"Jess! Can't you try to be more positive about all of this?"

"Anyway you look at it, this ain't goin' to be a happy holiday for me, personal babysitter or not. But," he said, somewhat sheepishly, "I'll give him a chance to see what he can do."

"Give yourself a chance, too! Your outlook is so negative! I was hoping you had this…" he stopped, searching for the word, " ...depressive attitude behind you."

"You want to me leave?"

"Of course not! It's your sarcastic remarks I'd like to get rid of. You're in serious trouble, and I'm trying to help you, but all you can do is make trivial comments and reject what I'm trying to do for you!"

A deep silence followed Dan's outburst. He waited in vain for an angry response from Jess, but none came. Instead, Jess stared at a spot on the top of the desk, burning a hole in it with his eyes. Nothing stirred in his gaunt face. His illness was clearly revealed in its dark shadows and sharp angles, and his eyes, which always betrayed his inner emotions, seemed to have frozen into two dark-blue crystals.

Jess' icy silence made Dan nervous. He'd never seen his patient in this detached, unapproachable state. He had no idea was going on behind that blank stare. It worried him more than Jess' physical poor health. The man before him seemed to have changed into another person - and Dan was afraid it was all his fault.

Suddenly, Jess broke the ominous silence. "You're right," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" Dan asked, not trusting his ears. "That's it?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I'd like a little more enthusiasm."

"I said you're right. How many times do you want me to say it?"

"None at all unless you're serious." Dan paused, debating how to put what he was feeling into words. "Look, Jess," he said at last, "I have this feeling that something is wrong with you and I don't mean physically. You're not yourself - not the person I've come to know as Jess Harper."

"You might be right. Sometimes I don't know who I am either."

"That's no answer! And certainly no solution!"

"Is there a solution?"

"Why are you so cynical? You're the one who never gives up! Now, when your life depends on your willingness to fight for it, you're shrugging your shoulders like you don't care. What's wrong with you?"

"How should I be feelin'? How would you be feelin' if you were in my place? You want me to be more...cheerful?" The sarcasm was back.

"That's not what I meant."

"Look, I'm goin' to Colorado Springs, and I appreciate everything you've done for me - more than you know. But don't ask me to be happy about it."

"That's not what I want, Jess. I just wish you had some faith that…" He swallowed the rest of the sentence.

"...that I got a future?"

"Yes," Dan said with a hard sigh. "Exactly."

Jess rubbed his forehead. "I don't know that I do, Doc. I wouldn't mind so much if it was just about me but I got a boy - a boy who needs me. Do you know how it feels to let him down? There ain't nothin' positive about that."

"You're not letting anyone down!"

"What else would you call it when I've got to leave him?"

"In that case, you must come back from Colorado Springs a healthy man. And cynicism won't help you do that."

A very faint smile played at Jess' mouth. "You're a pretty good doctor, Dan. You know how to patch up more than bullet holes."

"I'm also your friend, Jess. You know, sometimes I think you're being so negative just to get me to challenge you to be more positive."

Jess grinned a little in acknowledgment of the truth in Dan's words, but then his lips tightened as a sharp pain stabbed through his chest.

"Where are you hurting?" Higgins asked, immediately aware of the change in his patient's expression, despite Jess' efforts to hide what he was feeling.

"It's nothin". Just the usual jab when I move the wrong way."

"Do you feel it in the wound itself?"

"No. It's more like a rib," he touched his chest, "or something like that. It hurts now and then."

"Well, there's a reason for that pain. The inflammation around the shattered bone and surrounding tissue is the main cause of your poor health. It's going to give you trouble for a long time. The more I know about it the better. That goes for Jonathan Tyler, too. If you want to get better, you're going to have to cooperate with us by being open and honest about what you're feeling even when that makes you uncomfortable or seems unimportant. Neither Tyler nor I see it as a sign of weakness. You must let us know when you're in pain no matter how minor it may seem to you - or how embarrassing."

"It ain't easy for me to do that. But...," he said with a twist of his mouth, "I'll try."

"You only make things harder for yourself when you try to cover up what's really going on. Remember that!"

"I don't like complainin' about what can't be helped."

"I'm not talking about complaining! What you've been doing is pretending. I know you don't like worrying your folks at home, but Jonathan needs to know exactly how you're feeling. He knows enough about you to be worried that you'll cover up your symptoms."

"He's worried about me? What've you told him?"

"That you're a stubborn man - but he intends to do everything he can to make you feel comfortable. During the winter, he has very few private patients. Most people come to take the rest cure in the summer months. He'll have plenty of time to look after you. You'll come home in the spring the physically well young man you were before you were wounded - if you have the determination and endurance to fight for your life."

"I want to do that, Dan. Sometimes I don't act like it, but I do. Being in the middle of that gunfight on Friday let me know that. And I knew it last night when I talked to Mike." He shot a quick glance at the doctor. "I've seen a lot of bad things in my life and I guess that's where I got that hard edge you're talkin' about. But I know you're right. I can't give up now. I can't do that to Mike - or Slim and Daisy." He hesitated for a minute, rubbing his mouth, thinking hard about what he was trying to say. "It's just… I stay so damned tired all the time, like I'm bein' sucked under, like Death is inside me, stalkin' me, playin' a game with me, waitin' to see if I can get away from him. What I'm really afraid of is that I'm goin' to let him sneak up on me. That I'm goin' to get too tired and let my guard down and let him get me. Maybe even help him get me." He tried to take a breath, his face crinkled with the effort of explaining how he felt. "I'm hopin' goin' to Colorado Springs will help me win. I can be a real sore loser."

"I'm glad you can talk about it and that you understand what you're up against. But you don't have to do this alone, Jess. A lot of people will help you if you let them."

"Dependin' on somebody else don't sit well with me."

"I know that. But you've helped a lot of people. Now it's your turn to let people help you."

"Maybe I ought to look at it like a relaxin' vacation - even though I know that ain't so."

"It might turn out that way as you begin to recover."

"Maybe so." Jess leaned back against the chair, exhausted by the conversation.

"I know you're tired," Higgins said, "but I want to know how your talk with Mike went. How did he take it?"

"Pretty much like any ten-year boy would. He didn't like it but after a while, he calmed down."

"Then everything's alright."

"I'm not so sure about that. I think he keeps a lot of things to himself."

"Like father, like son," Dan said gently.

"I got a bad feeling about leavin' him."

"Maybe you should talk to him again."

"What else can I say? That I ain't goin'?" He stopped for a minute, frowning at Dan. his mouth twitching with frustration but then he looked down and admitted, "He's probably handling it better than I am."

"I think you're right. If you felt better about leaving, so would he."

"It's when I think about how he'll feel if...if I die." Jess' face was tight with pain. "That's the part I can't take."

"Maybe you shouldn't worry so much about it."

"That ain't likely!" Jess snapped. "It's his future I'm thinkin' about."

"It's your future, too! If you worry too much about him, you'll drain the strength you need to get well. And that won't do Mike any good."

Jess tried to take another deep breath. "OK," he said, curtly. "What time does the train leave on Friday?"

"Nine o'clock," Dan shot back. "You should be in Cheyenne by one-thirty that afternoon."

"That's faster than the stage."

"And more comfortable. You'll have to wait three hours in Cheyenne for the train to Denver. In Denver, you'll have an hour wait for the train to Colorado Springs. As I've already said, someone will pick you up at the station there and take you to Tyler's sanitorium. They'll take care of your luggage, too."

"I ain't plannin' on takin' much. I don't think haulin' my shavin' kit around will hurt me much."

"I just don't want you to have to worry about anything but getting on the trains on time. It's going to be a long, hard journey for you."

"Don't worry. I'll get myself there."

"Of course you will."

 _"Hopefully,"_ Dan thought to himself.

"Is that it? Can I go now?" Jess asked. "I got a lot of things to do."

Dan watched him get up and noticed him wince. "Do you need anything for pain?"

"It ain't that bad."

"Why don't you stay here for a while and rest?"

"Got no time, Dan. I'm goin' over to see Majors and then I'm goin' by Mort's."

"Well, Mort will have some hot coffee. However, Mrs. Howard's taste better."

"I believe you," Jess said, buttoning his jacket, "but Mort needs me to sign off on his report. And I want to see how he's doin'."

"He's better than you. He'd be a lot better still if he didn't galavant around the Territory like he does. He's as stubborn as you are."

"That's Mort."

"Both of you are putting grey hairs on my head."

"Nah," Jess said, "you still look pretty black-headed to me."

Dan went with him to the front door of the office and stood for a while in the open doorway watching him walk away.

END OF CHAPTER 29


	30. Chapter 30

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 30

When Jess got to the bank, Lincoln Majors immediately came out of his office and welcomed him with a hearty handshake. "I'm glad to see you. It saves me a trip out to your ranch." The banker ushered Jess through the small gate that separated the public area from the administrative area and made sure he was comfortably seated, even asking if he would like a cognac.

Jess declined. "You're mighty happy to see me today," he said as Majors settled his ample girth at the desk. "What's this about? Did the bank lose any money on Friday that you're plannin' to have me do somethin' about?"

Majors' expansive, good-natured expression didn't change, but he was startled by Jess' perception. He still needed to transport all the money in the vault to Cheyenne, and in his opinion, Jess was the most responsible, reliable man he knew. The transfer would be made safely if Harper were in charge. The banker often wished he could hire Harper as a permanent security agent for the bank and would like to find a way to bring that up with him just so he could have the satisfaction of knowing he'd at least asked him, but he knew better than to have that talk now. Instead, he said jovially, "Not a penny of the bank's money is missing - thanks to you."

"Mort Corey and Mike had somethin' to do with it."

"But without you … Oh, dash it all, Jess! I do have something I want to talk with you about, and I'm hoping you'll hear me out."

Jess looked at him, waiting.

"It's just I don't know how to put this…"

"If it's about the reward money, you can forget it."

"Now don't get all worked up before you know what I'm going to say. Before we go into that, why don't you tell me why you've come to the bank today? What can we do for you?"

"This wound I got is still actin' up. Doc Higgins said I need to go to a place in Colorado Springs."

"Oh, yes. He has a colleague there who has a specialized sanatorium there that can help you."

Jess stared at him in surprise. "How do you know that?"

"Half the folks in town know about it, but Mort Corey told me."

"Mort…?"

"Now don't take offense. He had a good reason to tell me and I'm glad he did."

Jess frowned, perplexed by the efficiency of Laramie's small town gossip network, but he was too tired to get really mad. He shrugged. "Oh, what the hell. However you got the news, you probably got the idea it's goin' to cost some money."

"I'm sure it will. Are you here to talk about financing this…, shall we say, ... trip?"

"Yeah. You already know I got an account for Mike, but I'm not going to use that money. I want to take out a loan on my share of the Sherman Ranch."

"I understand that is a possibility, but at this point, it's not one that I can agree to - not under any circumstances."

Jess rubbed his forehead, confused. "You're goin' to have to explain that to me. The ranch is debt free."

"And it should stay that way."

"I guess you think goin' to Colorado Springs ain't a good investment."

"Heavenly days, Jess. Investing in your health is the best thing you can do."

"Why don't you get to the point, Mr. Majors?" Jess snapped. "I'm not in any mood to play guessin' games today."

"I suppose I should get on with things before you come over that desk because I'm beating around the bush."

Jess' mouth quirked to the side as he eyed the banker. "You might be right about that."

"Then I hope you'll keep that temper of yours under control when you hear what I'm about to say to you." He picked up his letter opened, toying with it. "About the reward… " He held up his hand as Jess took a breath to object." Just heard me out! From what I know of you, I'm not surprised that you've refused the reward. But what you did for this town last Friday - and over the last eight years - can't simply be dismissed with another 'thank you'."

"Where're you goin' with this?"

Majors seemed embarrassed. He fiddled with the letter opener and then continued, "I apologize for my difficulty in expressing my gratitude - the town's gratitude." He looked up at Jess. "As chairman of the city council, I convened an extemporary meeting of the council on Saturday. All members of the committee agreed that we could not respect ourselves if we once again honored your contributions to our town only with fine words and fancy speeches. I'm not going to list all the times you put your life at risk for us while we stood by and let you, and then showed our gratitude by a pat on the back and a 'thank you' or two. We have all, in one way or another, taken advantage of your sense of responsibility for our protection and your willingness to fight our battles for us."

"I think you're exaggeratin' some."

"No, Jess. On Friday, you risked your life and saved the sheriff's life and brought down three extremely dangerous criminals who had evaded capture for weeks. You saved all of us from disaster."

"Damn it, Majors, I didn't plan it that way! I got lucky. And I didn't do it by myself!"

"If you hadn't intervened, I probably wouldn't be talking to you now. I would have hung myself in despair because I had let down so many people who'd entrusted me with their life savings."

"Mr. Majors," Jess said with flat finality in his voice, "how about savin' whatever you're tryin' to say for another day. All I want is to work out a loan on my share of the ranch."

Majors stopped playing with his letter opener and raised his head to look at Jess directly. "Alright. As the chairman of the town council of Laramie, I've been instructed to tell you that the city fathers feel that it would be their pleasure, their great honor, to take over all the expenses that will be incurred in connection with your treatment and recovery in Colorado Springs. We are all of the opinion this is only a fraction of what we owe you."

"That's plum loco!"

"Not at all. We see no other way to show appropriate gratitude. It would give us great pleasure to do something for you in exchange of all you have done for us. Please don't see this as any kind of compensation or payment. It is quite simply a gift from the citizens of this city who are proud to have a good and decent man like you in their midst. I can't force you to accept this gift but it would make me very happy if you would. And if you don't, I will give you a loan on your share of the ranch but I will make sure that loan is repaid immediately - and not by you."

"That ain't nothin' but blackmail."

"Don't be so hard on me! Just say you'll accept our gift."

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"Because…" He searched for a reason. "Because…" He threw up his hand. "Damn it, because I can't!"

"What if we gave you a gold watch? Would you like that better?"

"Better than what you got in mind."

"Oh, come on, Jess. The only reason you're having a problem with this is because you think it's bounty money. But the reward for those three outlaws has nothing to do with it."

"You'll have a hard time makin' me believe that."

"It's true. The citizens of Laramie simply want to do something for you after all you've done for them. You could have been just as badly wounded riding guard for one of the stages or defending our town on other occasions. I don't think you would have as much of a problem accepting the money if you'd been wounded in the gunfight on Friday instead of in front of your home."

"That ain't so!"

"Please, Jess. Accept our sincere desire to help you. If it seems like some kind of payment to you, please forgive our clumsiness. Do us a favor and help us relieve the guilty conscience we all have by benefiting so much and so often from your courage. We'd hope you accept our gift willingly. Otherwise, we'll have to impose the gratitude we have by repaying any mortgage you take out."

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Just agree to accept this concrete evidence of our esteem for you. Is that so hard?"

"It ain't easy."

"It should be. It's a heartfelt gift from your friends."

"You're not givin' me much choice."

Majors chuckled. "Over the years, I've gotten to know you, and therefore I know the best way to persuade you. You're a stubborn man. We can't leave you an alternative - not to embarrass you but to convince you to act in your own best interest!"

"Do you know what you're gettin' the town into? It costs two hundred and fifty dollars a week and there's no tellin' how long I'll be there. And there's no guarantee you're goin' to get anything in return. I might not be comin' back."

"It doesn't matter how long it takes or how much it costs. And don't tell me this is your private affair that you must handle alone."

"It is as far as I'm concerned."

A warm-hearted, paternal smile spread across Mr. Majors' round face. "Why are you so stubborn? Is it so hard to accept a gift from your good friends without feeling obligated? You're not. We're the ones who are obligated to you, and we want to do something about that."

Jess took a deep breath but stopped when his wound started hurting. "You seem to have me cornered," he said, beginning to feel overpowered by Majors' persistence.

"Well, let's face it," he said lightly, "there some self-interest in this on our part. We want to be able to count on you the next time trouble comes our way. But most of all," he said, his voice lowering with sincerity, "I want to make clear to you that no matter what happens, we will be there for you in any way we can. We will always stand behind you. You're one of us, and we want you to come home to us - a well man - as soon as possible."

At first, Jess was so embarrassed he didn't say anything. He wasn't prepared for the obvious concern and warmth in Majors' voice. _"I should've taken that bounty money,"_ he thought in mute desperation. _"I'd of known how to handle that."_

"Say something, Jess," Majors urged. "I didn't mean to embarrass you but I meant every word of what I said."

"Well," Jess rubbed his neck with the flat of his hand, "I don't seem to have much of a choice. I... I didn't mean it like that … Damn it, it's hard to find the right words… I appreciate it…."

"Wonderful!" Majors leaned back in his chair, clearly relieved. "I'm glad we agree."

"You got me at an advantage right now," he said, wondering why he'd given in to the banker. "I'm not able to hold my own the way I'd like to."

"I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of your illness! I hope you're not upset."

"No… I'm not sure I'm doin' the right thing, but...I got other problems to deal with."

"Is there anything…?"

Jess interrupted him. "Nothing you can help me with. Thanks anyway."

"Are you sure?"

Jess' answering nod was so emphatic, Majors let it go and changed the subject. "When will you leave?"

"Nine o'clock Friday morning."

"I'll talk to Doctor Higgins and take care of the financial side of things. If any questions or difficulties arise let me know immediately but there should be no problems at all."

"You're a generous man, Mr. Majors," Jess said seriously. "It sounds you got everything covered. You got my thanks." To divert the conversation away from himself, he looked toward the bank vault that was visible through a door in the banker's office and noticed that it was wide open. Jess was surprised and more than a little alarmed. "Have you found a way to transport the money?" he asked. "After Friday, the whole Territory will know there's a lot of cash to be had if somebody can get their hands on it."

"I know," Majors said with a heavy sigh. "It's hard on a man's stomach."

"Those open doors make me nervous, too. Why don't you keep 'em closed?"

"There's a problem with automatic time-lock. I've talked to the manufacturer about it, and they say they're going to correct it, but right now I have to keep the doors open during banking hours."

"That makes the money pretty damn easy to get to."

"That's why I'm glad we have a good sheriff." Majors sensed an opportunity to talk to Jess about his secret desire to hire Jess' services. "You know, you've been Mort Corey's deputy many times over the years. Friday was a prime example of your capabilities as a lawman. Have you ever thought you might be wasting other opportunities by earning your livelihood on a ranch?"

"No."

Major leaned forward, propping up his heavy body on his elbows, determined to do his best to convince Jess to agree to be the bank's security agent. "Jess, there aren't many men like you. Couldn't you see yourself as a staff member of this bank? You could build an outstanding career here as the bank's Chief Security Officer. It would pay handsomely."

"You got to be kiddin'."

"I'm rarely so serious. You're the right person to manage all the safety issues within the bank and for the transports of money. Your area of operation would include Cheyenne, even Denver. Such a position is certainly no more dangerous than ranch work."

"Mr. Majors, I'm not wantin' to earn my livin' as a gunslinger, even a one dressed up in a banker's suit."

"Good heavens, Jess, it would never occur to me to see you like that! All I'm trying to do is to convince you that you could do something other than being in constant danger of breaking your neck working on the ranch."

"I'd be more likely to get shot defendin' somebody' else's money. Besides, I got a ten-year-old boy to think of. Why don't we just drop this?"

"Well, who knows what might happen? All I'm asking is that if you ever do want to be a security officer, I hope you will remember my offer and come to me first."

"That ain't goin' to happen," Jess said flatly. "Maybe instead of worryin' about what I do for a livin', you ought to be thinkin' about how you're goin' to handle transportin' all that money in your vault to Cheyenne."

"I know. I know. I can only hope the attack on Friday has discouraged anybody from trying it again. Surely the word has gotten around that Laramie has excellent law enforcement officers. No one else will be willing to risk it."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that. Bank robbers don't scare easy."

"Well, since I can't count on much help from Arthur Kellington and the Overland Stage Company, I might as well hope what happened on Friday will act as a deterrent, even if that is only wishful thinking. It helps me sleep better at night until I figure out another way to transport the money safely. But I don't want you to worry about it. You have other things to think about."

"What're your customers sayin'? They're the one who might be the ones worryin' most about it."

"I've had no complaints so far, thank goodness."

"They got a lot of trust in you."

"Yes, I suppose so. I just hope I don't disappoint any of them - including you. Your money is here, too."

Jess grinned. "I think it's better off here than under my mattress or in that old broke down safe at the ranch that could be carried off under somebody's arm."

"Perhaps you should get a new one."

"No way. Slim won't part with it. He says it's a family heirloom." Jess' grin got wider. "He told Daisy she could keep her spendin' money in it, but she said it was a rusty old contraption and that her money is safer in the biscuit tin in the kitchen."

Majors laughed, relieved that the conversation was ending on a lighter note. "It's good to hear one of your entertaining stories again," he said smiling. "I hope your sense of humor is fully restored when you come back from Colorado Springs - a healthy man."

"I'm hopin' that, too."

"Well, then…." Mr. Majors rose and maneuvered his rotund body around the desk to stand by Jess who'd also risen. "There isn't much more to be said except that I hope your stay in Colorado Springs will be a complete success."

"Thanks, Mr. Majors. And thanks again for everything you're doin' for me."

"No, Jess, thank you." He laid his hand on Jess' back as they walked out of the office. "Thank you for all you've done for our community and for giving us the pleasure of accepting our gift."

In the lobby, they were met by an officious, somewhat harried clerk. "Mr. Majors," the man said, "Ethan Jordan is here to see you for his appointment to talk with you about that investment he's thinking about making."

"Oh, yes. I'll be with him in just a moment." He turned back to Jess, grasping his hand in both of his. "In case I don't see you before you leave, I want to wish you a pleasant journey and a successful stay. And if there's anything I can help you with, please let me know."

"Thanks, Mr. Majors. Thanks for everything."

"Thank you, my boy. Please come back soon and in perfect health!" he said, walking with him to the door. "Take good care of yourself!"

Jess shook hands with him again and with a wry smile said, "So long, Mr. Majors. I hope there'll be one to take care of."

"Goodbye, Jess. Keep your chin up!"

Jess lifted his hand in farewell and walked away.

He'd already crossed the street when the strangeness of his last sentence finally dawned on the obese banker. Deep in thought about its meaning, he shook his head and walked back toward his office to attend to Mr. Jordan, but Jess Harper was still very much on his mind.

END OF CHAPTER 30


	31. Chapter 31

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 31

The following week was miserable for everyone at the Sherman Ranch. Jess was very ill and in constant dread of the coming separation, as was Mike. Slim and Daisy were caught between sorrow at the thought of Jess going away and wishing he were already under the specialist's care so he could get the help he needed.

When Friday morning finally came, Jess said a very difficult goodbye to Mike and Daisy. By the time he climbed into the wagon with Slim for the bumpy ride to the railroad station, he felt exhausted. He'd hardly slept at all the night before and the parting from Mike was harder than anything he'd ever done. Now, having to say goodbye to Slim seemed more than he could do. As he sat silently beside the rancher, the wound beneath the bandage shot stabs of pain through his chest at every rough spot in the road.

"You're mighty quiet this morning," Slim said, desperate to break the silence. Driving Jess to the station seemed too much like driving him to his execution. He needed to make contact him with while he still could.

"What'd you want me to say?"

"Anything!"

"Alright," Jess said, with a numb stare at the horse's' hind legs. "Remember what I said about the hill behind the house."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What do you think I'm talkin' about? That's where I want you to bury me. It's peaceful up there, and when the wind blows, the air smells like sage. That's where I want you to take me."

"The only place I'm taking you is to the railroad station!" Slim snapped. "And that's where I'm going to pick you up when you come home!"

"Sure. I'm just ain't sure in what kind of shape I'll be in."

"Knock it off, Jess. I want to talk to you, but not like this."

"You're right - but I'm not kiddin', Slim. If somethin' happens, you know you where I want to be…"

"Yeah, I know. But let's drop it, OK?"

"Sure."

Jess leaned back against the seat. When he propped one leg up on the wooden boards at the front of the wagon, his jacket fell open, revealing the gun and holster strapped to his thigh.

"Why're you wearing your gun?" Slim asked, eyeing the weapon. "You think you're going to need it where you're going?"

"You never know."

"Any other reason?" Slim said, worried about Jess' threat to use his gun to end his suffering on his own terms.

"What else?" Jess said, understanding what was behind Slim's question but declining to talk about it. "Besides, since the run-in with our three friends, I'd rather have it where I can get to it in a hurry."

The road ran in a long arc around a thick stand of pines. When the wagon came out of their shelter onto an open, treeless stretch, an icy wind swept down on them, bringing the feel of snow. Jess pulled the collar of his fur-lined jacket higher around his neck, trying to breathe regularly despite the cold air that bit into his lungs like a sharp-toothed bobcat.

"What's the matter?" Slim asked. "Are you cold?"

"No, but it hurts to breathe the cold air."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Me either."

Jess started wheezing and then coughing. He spat bloody mucus onto the side of the road.

"You want to stop?"

"No. I'm alright."

"I heard you coughing last night. It's getting worse, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Jess swallowed hard. The coughing had stopped, but his damaged rib ached all the more. "Sorry I bothered you."

"You didn't bother me."

"I'm glad I'm gettin' away from everybody before it gets contagious."

"It's not going to get contagious! We already talked about that!"

"You never know. Anyway, I don't like causin' trouble for everybody."

"How many times have I got to tell you? It's not your fault that you're sick. You're family. It's no trouble to take of you. It's just what families do!"

"I don't like needin' so much help."

"So what? You think you can just run away when things get uncomfortable for you?"

"It might be better if I did."

Slim shook his head, baffled and feeling helpless. "I know you're sick, but sometimes I don't know who you are anymore."

"I don't want to argue. We ain't got much time left."

"'We don't have much time left'..." Slim mocked. "Can you feel any sorrier for yourself? Did you ever decide to buy a return ticket?" When Jess didn't say anything, Slim spat out, "Do you even want one?"

"It don't matter what I want. It's just what's goin' to happen."

Slim's jaw flexed in frustration and gut-wrenching fear. "The way you're talking makes me think I better go with you to make sure you get there."

"I ain't loco."

"I'm not so sure about that."

Jess stared sightlessly at the horses, brooding on his dark thoughts. Slim knew him well enough to back off.

After a few minutes, Jess said, "Sorry, Slim. I'm actin' like a jackass."

A sweet smile flickered across Slim's face. "Don't start exaggerating again," he said, but the smile faded when Jess coughed up blood again. "Maybe I should go with you."

Jess sucked in cold air through clenched teeth as the wagon hit another bump. "I'll be alright. I just hope Doc's friend can do somethin' about this damned pain."

"Do you have some laudanum with you?"

He patted his jacket pocket. "Yeah."

"You're taking it more often now."

"It helps with the pain and the cough. I'm afraid I'm gettin' used to it."

"I don't think so. You're probably not taking it often enough. You look really tired."

"I'll get some sleep on the train. I don't even have to get off in Denver."

"You know the cattle auction'll be held there in May. You ought to be well enough by then so we both can go."

"Yeah."

"You don't sound like you believe it - and you look like you're about ready to collapse."

"Nah. I'm just tired. And I'm worried about Mike."

"You need to be worrying about yourself. Don't you trust me and Daisy to take care of him?"

"I wouldn't be leavin' him with you if I didn't. I'm worried about him worryin' about me. It's a lot for him to handle."

"We'll take care of him."

"Don't be too hard on him."

Slim tried to make a feeble joke. "I'll spoil him rotten."

"It ain't funny, Slim. You can't ride him too hard, but you can't let him take the reins, either."

"Don't worry so much about him. All you need to do is get well fast and come home from Colorado Springs as quick as you can. And write to us! A letter from you will the best thing you can do for Mike while you're away."

"Yeah."

"And send us a telegram as soon as you get there so we'll know you made it OK. It'll make us all happy."

"Alright."

"Have you got the letter Dan gave you to give to Tyler?"

"It's in my bag. I wonder what he said."

"Haven't you read it?"

"No. He sealed it up. I don't want to know what's in it anyway. I've decided I'll sleep better if I don't know."

"He had to tell you something."

"The problem's on the inside now. He said rib ain't healed yet and the tissues around it and my lungs are still inflamed. Higgins' friend has his work cut out for him."

"I hope you have the patience to cooperate with him."

"I'll scrape up as much as I can." He looked over at his partner until Slim looked back at him and their eyes met. "Look, Slim," Jess said. "When I listen to the way I talk, I don't blame you for thinkin' I might not try to get well. But I will. I'm not goin' to give up even if that other Jess Harper - the one I don't know myself - keeps tryin' to get me out of the fight. I want to live and I'll do my damnedest to get well. I wanted you to know that before I left."

Slim took the reins in one hand and put the other one Jess' shoulder. "I never doubted it for a minute. I know you too well. And I know you're going to make it happen."

Their gaze held for a few moments and all the strength of their friendship flowed between them. Their bond would hold no matter what the future might bring.

"How about you?" Jess asked. "You and that bullet you carry around?"

"I'll try, Jess - because you want me to. But there're some things a man can't forget."

"Are you tellin' me you took care of me day and night for all this time because you felt guilty?"

"Is that what you think?"

"No, but sometimes I think you want me to believe that."

"Whatever I've done hasn't helped you - and when I could have helped you, I didn't. And there aren't any second chances to get it right."

"It wasn't your fault! And you got to remember that your hard-headed stubbornness is the only thing that's kept me alive."

"But I wasn't there when it counted the most."

"How come we keep goin' around in circles? Why can't you get it your head that you're not guilty of anything?"

"Maybe I just need more time. And maybe it'll be easier when you get well and come home."

"Yeah, and maybe it would help if you threw that bullet away."

"I'm not ready to do that yet, but maybe I will be when you get home."

Having had their say, they both got quiet. Jess made himself as comfortable as he could, settling close to Slim's side to take advantage of the shelter his partner's big body offered against the icy wind. He closed his eyes, trying to relax.

"You know what, partner?" he asked. "We've had some good times together. Some bad ones, too. But I wouldn't of missed any of them - or havin' you to ride with."

"The same goes for me. And there's more to come. That's why you got to get well and come home as fast as you can. Otherwise, I might die of boredom."

"It looks like we're headed into one of those bad times," Jess said with a cocky grin and Slim grinned back, both of them deliberately overriding their sadness. "When did you say that cattle auction was?"

"End of May, same as every year."

"That means I'll have to get home by then."

"You better."

"If I don't and you get saddled with a bunch of broke down cows because I'm not there, I'll never hear the end of it."

"That's how I see it."

It felt good to both of them to joke around like they used to but there were practical things that still needed to be talked about.

"Slim, you got to hire somebody to help you as soon as you can."

"I was hoping I could wait until you came back so we could pick out somebody together."

"You need the help now, while I'm gone."

"I'll see. Since it's winter, there won't be as much work to do."

"That ain't so. That north fence can't wait. It'll cost us more to make up for lost cows than hirin' somebody to help you fix it." He elbowed Slim to make sure he was paying attention. "Or are you just bein' stubborn so you can put me to work roundin' up all those strays when I get home?"

"I can't put anything over on you, can I?" Slim grinned at him, glad Jess was thinking about getting well.

Jess poked him again, smiling, too. "But I ain't kiddin', Slim. You need to get somebody."

"I know it. I got to go to town this week anyway to pick up some supplies for Daisy. I'll ask around then - if that'll make you feel better."

"Did she give you another supply list?"

"As long as my arm."

"Where's she goin' to put it all? The store room's already full."

"There's still the cellar."

"That'll make the mice happy."

"I think Daisy's won that fight for right now. I haven't seen a mouse in a long time."

"If the cellar gets filled up again, they'll be back."

"And end up in one of Daisy's traps. She'll hunt 'em down."

"If she didn't, the only thing that would be left for Christmas would be roast mouse."

"I guess you'd be fine with that, huh? You'll eat anything."

"Sure. But I won't be home for Christmas anyway. Speakin' of Christmas - don't forget to ask Burke about that sewing machine for Daisy."

"When's it supposed to be delivered?"

"He said it would take a couple of weeks to get it in from Cheyenne. It'll probably get here in mid-December. Make sure Daisy don't catch on."

"Don't worry. I'll find way to hide it"

"It ain't goin' to be that easy. It's got a wooden cabinet and everything. Daisy's eyes'll pop out of her head. I wish I could see it."

"Me, too, partner. We'll miss you at Christmas."

"That the only time?"

"Sure!" Slim teased, or at least tried to. "And it won't even be so bad at Christmas. There'll be more roast beef for me!" Then his voice deepened and his face softened as he looked over at Jess slouching low on the seat beside him. "We are going to miss you - and not just at Christmas. We'll just miss you more then."

"Well, we can't do anything about that now," Jess said matter-of-factly. "I told Mike to pretend I was drivin' a herd up to Canada - that we all ought to think of it like that."

"You're not on a trail drive to Canada. It's not the same. Not even close."

"I'm beginnin' to think you're serious about missin' me."

"You bet I am. Who am I going to argue with?"

"Argue? We don't do that much."

"Then let's say we have differences of opinion - a lot of them."

"Maybe you ought to think about findin' a woman, somebody else that can knock heads with you," Jess said, his voice more serious than his joking words.

"You? The one who's afraid of a decent woman? You're telling me to get married?"

"I know more about it than you think I do. Just pick the right one."

"Then I better wait until my expert advisor gets back."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You ain't to be trusted."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't think of getting hitched until I got your approval."

"That's probably a good idea - but right now, why don't you try to watch out for some of those potholes in the road? My ribs ain't likin' the ride."

"We should have taken the buggy."

"You couldn't of gotten Daisy's home that way."

"She didn't want anything that important. I could have waited until tomorrow to get the supplies."

"I drive this wagon to town all the time. The road just seems worse today."

"I don't think the road is getting worse. I think you are."

"Maybe."

Slim was surprised. "No argument about that?"

"Not today."

"Damn, Jess. I'll be glad when this trip is behind you and you get to Colorado Springs. I wish you were already there."

"Don't start worryin' again. I'm not that bad."

Slim didn't reply. He guided the horses down the new road that bypassed Laramie's main street and led directly to the railroad station. The wagon rolled by a few sheds and warehouses and ended in front of a long building bustling with people getting cargo crates and mail bags ready to load on the train.

Slim stopped near the passenger waiting area. In a booth behind a half-opened window, a man with rolled up sleeves and a green hat was busy giving out information on train schedules to a couple of well-dressed ladies.

"You get out here," Slim told Jess. "I'll park the wagon around the corner and come right back."

"OK," Jess said. He climbed painfully down from the seat and leaned against the side of the wagon to catch his breath.

The man behind the ticket counter seemed to have eyes that saw everything because even as he was dealing with the two ladies, he told an errand boy that a passenger had just arrived who needed special service. He didn't know Jess by sight, but he knew he was the patient Doctor Higgins told him about just by the way he looked.

"Mr. Harper?" The boy asked, stopping eagerly in front of him, ready to help.

"That's me," Jess said, still leaning against the side of the wagon.

"I have instructions to help you with your luggage."

"Thanks. But I just got one bag."

His young helper quickly reached into the back of the wagon and pulled it out, but when Jess fished around in his pocket for a coin to give him, the boy said, "No, thank you, sir. That's all been taken care of. All you need to do is go to the ticket booth and talk to Mr. Hoover."

"Thanks," Jess managed to say before the youth tipped his hat and hurried away to the baggage holding area with Jess' small piece of luggage.

"Dan thought of everything," Slim said, grinning down from the wagon seat.

"Seems like it." Jess pushed away from the buckboard and straightened up. "I'll see you in a minute."

"Probably more like two," Slim said, flipping the reins to move the horses through the traffic milling around the station.

Jess walked stiffly over to the ticket booth where Mr. Hoover greeted him with a handshake through the small open window.

"Good morning, Mr. Harper. I'm happy that you're traveling with the Union Pacific. I hope you will be satisfied with our services."

"No complaints so far," Jess said.

"Everything has been arranged for you. The conductor on the train will take care of you personally."

"I'm not goin' to need much," Jess said, feeling a little awkward with all the attention. "Is the train on time?"

"To the minute! Scheduled arrival in Cheyenne is one fifteen. I'm sorry you'll have to change trains there."

"Well, I'm goin' to Colorado Springs, not St. Louis."

Mr. Hoover handed him his ticket. "When you get to the station in Cheyenne, contact the ticketmaster for the Denver and Rio Grande. He'll make sure everything is handled properly, including your luggage. We want to make all our passengers as comfortable as possible, especially a man of importance such as yourself…"

"How come I'm so important?" Jess asked, wondering what Doc Higgins told the Union Pacific about him. "I know I ain't the best sight to see for the rest of your passengers but I'm not contagious."

"Mr. Harper, you misunderstand me. I know who you are and what you've done for our community."

Jess frowned and snapped, "Doc Higgins don't need to be spreadin' talk like that around."

"Oh, no, sir! Not Doctor Higgins! I read all about you in the Laramie Chronicle. It's a special honor for me to see that you have the best services our company can offer."

 _"_ _I'd of done better ridin' the stage," Jess_ thought. Out loud he said, "Mort Corey had a lot to do with it, too."

"He couldn't have done it without you. Personally, and on behalf of the company, I'm happy about the outcome, especially after what they did to you." He nodded toward his shoulder. "I hope you will recover completely in Colorado Springs. Forgive me for saying so, but you do look pretty sick."

With a wry mixture of exasperation and amusement, Jess said, "I told you I ain't contagious. I might scare some folks, though. Could be bad for business."

"Surely not! Mr. Harper, if anyone causes you any discomfort you must notify the conductor at once…."

"Simmer down, mister. I'm not worried about it. Besides, I got a real thick coat on."

Their conversation was interrupted by the rumble and roar of the train coming in from the west. The wheels squealed as the engineer applied the brakes and metal hit metal. The train slowed down amidst a white cloud of steam released from the engine as its whistle deafened all other sounds.

The ticket master pulled his watch out of his pocket, flipped open the lid and with a certain amount of awe at the marvels of technology and modern progress announced, "On time to the minute! That's what I call reliability!"

Jess was less impressed. Steam and smoke enveloped him, causing him to start coughing. He turned his back on the train, pressed his handkerchief to his mouth and nose and pushed his shoulder into the side of the ticket booth to manage the pain in his shoulder.

Absorbed in the hustle and bustle of the train's arrival, Mr. Hoover didn't notice there was a problem until the tall figure of Slim Sherman blocked his view.

Slim leaned over Jess and put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you OK?"

Jess nodded but had to wait a minute before he could straighten up. "Too much smoke."

"Let's find another place to wait," Slim said.

"There's coffee and food inside," Mr. Hoover informed them, anxious to be of help. "The train won't leave for…," he snapped open his watch, "...another thirty-three minutes! Or you could make yourself comfortable in your compartment on the train." He looked at Slim. "Need a ticket?"

"No," Slim barked, cutting him off before turning back to Jess. "Do you want to go inside and sit down?"

"No. Too many people with cigars. Let's get out of this crowd."

"Yeah," Slim said immediately. He'd much rather spend his last few minutes alone with Jess in a quiet place than in a poorly ventilated, overheated room.

Jess tipped his hat to Mr. Hoover. "Thanks for the help."

"It was an honor, Mr. Harper. Have a good trip and a pleasant stay!"

"What's going on with him?" Slim asked as they walked away from the busy loading area toward the back of the building.

Jess grinned. "I'm an important man."

"Oh, yeah?"

"That's what he thinks anyway. Don't ask me why."

They both fell silent, strolling quietly side by side. To an outside observer, they appeared to be two people who didn't have much to say to each other, but in fact, they were in such close unspoken contact words were unnecessary.

There were crates, canvas bags and stacks of straw piled up in the back of the station. Jess sat down on one of the crates to rest. Slim sat down beside him.

"You OK?" the rancher asked one more time.

"Just tired." Jess slipped his hand underneath his jacket to rub his shoulder, trying to ease the stinging pain.

"You're hurting."

"Yeah."

"Don't you want me to bring you some coffee or something?"

"Nah. No tellin' how it tastes here."

"It can't be worse than Mort's."

"No argument there. But I don't want any."

Slim gave up and sat in silence beside his partner who was staring at the wide plateau in front of them. In the distance, the mountain range was barely visible through the late morning mist. Jess seemed to be memorizing the scene, saying goodbye to it and to all the people that lived in it who were important to him.

Slim put his hand on Jess' back to pull him out of the sorrow he saw on his face. "How're you doing?" he asked.

Jess let his gaze sweep over the familiar, loved landscape before him. "Who knows if I ever see this again…?" He ducked his head. "If I'll ever see you again…"

"Sure you'll see me again. I guarantee it."

"I don't know, Slim. I'm not so sure. It's like that feelin' I had before Hal and his gang came down to town. I'm scared and I don't know why. It's just there. Sounds loco, don't it?"

"Yeah. Some."

"Sorry to start on it again."

"No need to be sorry. We've been able to talk about everything so far."

"Yeah, but we ain't got much time. I don't want to waste it talking about somethin' dumb."

"Now look here! First of all, this isn't the last time we'll talk to each other. And secondly, what's going on with you isn't dumb. And thirdly, even it was dumb you can still talk to me about it."

"There were a lot of other things I wanted to tell you, but now this is the only thing I got on mind."

"Well, you can talk about it now or you can wait until you get home." He slapped Jess gently on the back. "And don't forget about that cattle auction in May. I'll send you the exact date when I know it."

Jess looked over at him, confused by his light response, but when he met his partner's eyes all he saw was sadness.

"Thanks, Slim," Jess said, "but you're goin' to have a hard time cheerin' me up. If I knew for sure I was comin' back it wouldn't bother me so much but I'm feeling pretty bad. I don't think you're doin' any better."

Slim's own sadness filled his face as he held Jess' gaze. "You're right."

Jess ducked his head again. "Just don't let on how bad you're feelin' around Mike. He don't need to know that."

"I won't. I might do what you told him to do - imagine you're away on a cattle drive to Calgary. But that doesn't make it any easier on you."

"Or on you…"

The silence that followed was broken by the shrill scream of the locomotive's whistle.

Jess didn't move.

Slim finally said, "I think we got to go or you'll miss your train."

"Yeah." Jess got up, groaning. "I don't guess they'll change their schedule because of me."

"Oh, I don't know," Slim said, trying to lighten the mood. "You're an important man."

It didn't work. "Are you OK?" Jess asked softly.

"No," Slim said just as softly and threw his arm around Jess' shoulders as they walked toward the train. A conductor intercepted them as they came around the corner of the building onto the loading platform.

"Mr. Harper?" he asked, looking at Jess.

"You see, I was right," Slim made another effort at levity. "They've come looking for you."

Jess glanced at his partner with a halfhearted grin, then turned to the conductor. "I'm Jess Harper."

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your compartment."

He led them to the entrance stairs of the last car on the train. Jess stopped and turned toward Slim.

"Well," he said. "Time to say goodbye. Take care of everybody at home - and yourself." He held out his hand and Slim gripped it with both hands, holding onto him tightly as if he didn't want to let him go.

"Don't worry, Jess." Slim's voice was hoarse. "You just take care of yourself and come back soon. And let us hear from you!"

"I guess I'll have a lot of time to write."

"You better."

Jess' face crinkled. "So long, Slim. Tell Daisy and Mike I'll miss them."

"I will." Slim swallowed hard. "You'll be home soon." He finally let go of Jess' hand, clenching his jaw as he fought for composure. He had the terrible feeling he might never see his partner alive again.

With the conductor's help, Jess climbed the high steps into the back platform of passenger car, but instead of going inside he turned around and looked down at Slim. Suddenly, he thought of all the things he wanted to say to him.

"Remember to make sure Burke has ordered Daisy's Christmas present!" he called out.

"I will!"

"And don't forget to get that hired hand to help you out!"

"I'll do that when I come back to town tomorrow. Now get inside the car before it starts up and knocks you off! I'll take care of everything."

There was a loud band as the car doors shut and the engine engaged. The conductor jumped up on the platform near Jess, leaned over and waved to the engineer. The whistle blew, the air filled with smoke and steam and with a jerk, the iron wheels started rolling.

Slim raised his hand and shouted, "Goodbye! Come home soon!"

Jess raised his hand too but his answer was drowned out by another loud whistle. Slim only heard his partner call his name. _"I hope I that wasn't our last goodbye,"_ he thought. _"I really hope it wasn't."_

He wanted to say something else, anything else, but the locomotive was rapidly picking up speed and the distance was too great for Jess to hear him. Slim stood on the empty platform and watched as the train disappeared around a curve like a long winding snake. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach and his eyes filled with tears. The bullet in his pocket burned a hole in his chest that went all the way down to his heart, making it ache as if he'd lost his very best friend forever. Maybe he had.

He felt miserable.

END OF CHAPTER 31


	32. Chapter 32

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 32

Jess stood on the platform staring down the tracks toward Laramie long after the train rounded the curve. Like Slim, he was feeling miserable, both physically and emotionally. If the conductor that was standing next to him had asked him how he felt, he wouldn't have been able to put it into words, but asking would have been unnecessary. The look in his eyes revealed everything.

The train was carrying him into an uncertain future, taking him away from all the people who meant so much to him, people who had kept him alive, who had given him the strength to believe there was still hope for his future. He knew they wanted him to live, to fight for his life, but he felt he was bound to disappoint them. They expected too much of him and of Jonathan Tyler. No doctor, no matter how much he knew, had power over the course of nature and the vulnerability of the human body.

Jess' only comfort was knowing he wouldn't have to die in the presence of his family. They'd already had to go through too much. He was glad they wouldn't have to have memories of his ravaged body. Knowing this made the journey he was on seem almost like a gift from heaven.

His hand rested heavily on the walnut handle of his gun. Its familiar grip gave him a sense of security, but it scared him at the same time. It was a reminder of a part of himself he didn't know much about, the part that had a dangerous urge to use the Colt to take the easy way out. He had to be on guard against this impulse or his gun would become a tool the real Jess Harper didn't want to use.

He might have stood on the platform all the way to Cheyenne, pondering the two parts of himself, and incidentally killing himself by exposing himself to the bitter cold, but the conductor, realizing Jess hadn't followed him inside, came back to get him. The uniformed man escorted him into the warm passenger car and then into a comfortable compartment where he assisted him in removing his jacket and settled him into a red cushioned seat. Shortly after the conductor left, Jess had a coughing attack caused by the vibration of the moving train and the warm air in the compartment. He finally decided to control it with a dose of laudanum. As the medicine took effect, the pain faded and Jess gradually relaxed into sleep.

A blast of the train's loud whistle woke him up half an hour later. _"Probably scarin' antelope off the track,"_ he thought groggily. The foul taste of laudanum lingered in his mouth and he felt disoriented and thirsty. He decided to leave the compartment in search of water. The solicitous conductor discovered him in the corridor and once more sprang to his assistance by bringing a full pitcher of water to the compartment, staying to make sure he downed two glasses of it. Unused to so much attention, Jess was glad when he could shake off the overly helpful man and regain the solitude of his private room.

Still drowsy, he sat down by the window as the whistle blew again, breaking the silence of the mountains. Wondering if he could see something running off the track, he took a look out the window. The landscape between Cheyenne and Laramie was as familiar to him as the back of his hand and he recognized the train's approximate location. Snow was falling on the steep passage, making the day as dreary and dark as his mood.

Before he could doze off again, he was roused by a commotion out in the corridor. Someone was calling out his name. He could hear the conductor arguing violently with whoever it was. Jess went to the door and looked outside. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Lincoln Majors struggling to get past the wildly gesticulating conductor. The banker was gripping a large overstuffed bag that he was fiercely determined not be parted from, no matter how much the angry conductor wanted to prevent him from hauling it down the corridor toward Jess' compartment.

"Mr. Majors!" Jess exclaimed, shocked fully awake. "What're you doin' here?"

The conductor continued to block Majors, assuming he was nothing but a peddler who wanted to hawk his wares to the passengers. Such activity was absolutely prohibited on the Union Pacific. He turned to Jess and asked, "Do you know this man?"

"Sure, that's…." He stopped when he saw Majors frantically shaking his head with his index finger to his mouth behind the conductor's back. "That's an old friend of mine," he quickly continued.

The conductor turned around and examined Majors suspiciously. It seemed strange that this obese traveling salesman would know an important man like Jess Harper. "Are you sure?" he asked, still of the opinion that the man in the corridor was a snake oil salesman who had targeted Jess because he was obviously ill.

"Yeah!"

"Well…," the conductor said, contemptuously inspecting Majors from head to toe, "if you insist, he can take a seat in your compartment - but he must pay the surcharge at the normal rate."

"Of course!" Majors said. He pulled out his wallet and paid the extra amount without any hesitation.

Only then did the riled conductor let him pass, casting a poisonous look at him as he disappeared into Jess' compartment with his oversized bag and a mischievously grinning Jess Harper.

Major was grinning too as he took off his jacket. "That man really didn't want to let me come in here."

"He's serious about his orders."

"Did you give them to him?"

"Nope."

"Excuse me, Jess. I know I'm imposing on you. I didn't even ask if you wanted my company."

"You ain't botherin' me, Mr. Majors. But I'm not very good company right now." He sat back down and watched the heavy set man hang up his coat and carefully place his big traveling bag on the other seat in the compartment. "You know," he added, "it's kind of a coincidence that you're on the same train as me."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Majors beamed at Jess as if he were the winning ticket in a lottery.

As the banker sat down opposite him, Jess' eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Maybe your being here ain't no coincidence at all."

"What makes you think that?'

Jess studied the overstuffed bag next to the banker. Majors was leaning against it, his arm thrown around it. Jess' suspicion began to take concrete form.

"Is this a business trip or something?"

"Business, Jess, business."

"In Cheyenne?"

"Yes, indeed. Since Arthur Kellington and the Overland Stage Company are not cooperating in transporting the bank's money, I decided to take things into my own hands."

"Yeah? You're goin' to Cheyenne to find somebody else to do it?"

"Not exactly!" Mr. Majors face was shining like the summer sun. "I've arranged something else."

The whole plan swam into focus for Jess. It wasn't a very safe plan and worst of all he was in the middle of it whether Mr. Majors had planned it that way or not.

"It's in the bag. Am I right?" he asked.

"Not so loud!" Majors hissed, terrified someone would overhear despite the closed compartment and the rattle and clack of the moving train.

"That's plum loco," Jess said succinctly.

"You're the one who made me think of it!"

"The way you're doin' it is just plain careless!"

"In my opinion, it's the best way of doing it."

"Does anybody else know about this?"

"Not a soul. Just you and me."

Jess scrubbed the side of his face in disbelief. "You got any kind of plan to handle things if somethin' goes wrong?"

"Nothing will go wrong! I've told employees in the bank that I've gone to Cheyenne to take care of some business for Arthur Kellington, but on the train, everyone thinks I'm a pesky salesman who annoys passengers by trying to sell the wares in my bag. In four hours, I'll be in Cheyenne and the money will be safely deposited in the bank there. On top of that, I'm traveling in the company of the man I place the utmost confidence in. What could go wrong?"

Jess eyed him with a mixture of exasperation and admiration. "I got to hand it to you, Mr. Majors. It might work. But if it don't, I'm not sure I'll be any help to you."

"You're not obligated to do anything at all!" Majors said sincerely. "Not in any way. It's just...it's just that I feel more secure around you. I know you're not in top shape, but…" he had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself, "there's nothing wrong with your right hand and you still have nerves of steel."

"I hope you're right about that."

"I couldn't be better off anywhere than I am here. You're the best protection I can ask for. I'm sure my luggage will reach Cheyenne in perfect condition, no matter what happens."

"You're hopeless." Jess shook his head and decided to drop the argument. He wanted to go back to sleep. "I can guarantee you one thing. If anybody comes through that door with a gun, all I'm goin' to do is hold up the one hand I got and hope to stay alive."

"I wouldn't expect anything else of you. I have no right to."

"Yeah," Jess said, with a wry shake of his head. "Well, Mr. Majors, I'm goin' to get some shut eye," he said, hunkering down in the corner near the window.

"Don't let me disturb you! I have some newspapers to read. Pay no attention to me at all. I'll wake you when we get to Cheyenne. And I'll stay in your compartment if you don't mind."

"Sure...because you feel safer here…" Jess was too tired to protest.

Mr. Majors disappeared behind his newspaper.

Instead of closing his eyes and going to sleep, Jess stared out of the window at the snowstorm the north wind was blowing into white drifts at the edge of the tracks. He had to admit Mr. Majors unexpected appearance had a positive side to it. The banker's plan was ingenious. Thinking about it took his mind off of his own troubles. Jess gradually relaxed. After a while, the monotony of the snow covered landscape and the quiet of the compartment lulled him to sleep. In his illness and exhaustion, even the presence of a bag full of bank notes couldn't keep him awake.

Mr. Majors tried to read the newspaper but he really preferred to talk to Jess. He noisily shook the paper out and looked over the top of it to see if Jess were available for conversation but he was too late. Jess was crumpled up in his corner, fast asleep.

Majors frowned as he studied him. He could see he was deathly ill, thin and frighteningly frail. Against the dull white of the snow outside, Jess' face was paler than ever. Yet, even as sick as he was, Majors trusted him more than anyone he knew. The holstered gun strapped to his thigh seemed to symbolize the natural self-assurance of the man. Someone might be able to surprise him in his current condition but Majors had no doubt Jess would meet the situation head-on and would prevail. He trusted him blindly.

The banker's thoughts were interrupted when Jess began panting and groaning in his sleep. The wounded man turned his head to the other side, revealing the fresh scar on his neck from the gunfight on Friday. Majors' compassionate look slipped down to Jess' left shoulder and he imagined the wound and the scar beneath the bandage. A chill ran down his back. _"What kind of world are we living in when a man can do that to another man without a reason,"_ he thought.

Deciding to do something useful instead of just bemoaning problems he couldn't solve, he got up to ask the conductor to find a blanket for Jess. The minute he stuck his head out of the compartment car, the conductor appeared at the corner of the corridor. His face darkened when he saw Majors.

The banker ignored his rude behavior. "Oh, excuse me," he said very kindly. "Could I have a blanket?"

"A blanket?" the man repeated, his nose flaring in disapproval. He walked over and looked into the compartment to make sure Jess was alright. People like Majors were not to be trusted.

"Yes, please. For Mr. Harper."

When the conductor saw Jess sleeping in the corner, his face brightened. "Of course!" he said. "I'll get it immediately." He disappeared and within seconds was back with the requested item. "I asked him if he wanted one before but he refused."

"Thank you," Majors said politely, taking the woolen bundle. He closed the compartment door, shook the blanket out and carefully spread it over the sleeping man, making sure he didn't disturb him. Then he sat back down and opened his newspaper again, quietly this time, and settled back to read as the train rolled steadily toward Cheyenne. Occasionally he looked over the paper to check on Jess, but Jess slept on, and Mr. Majors relaxed, even forgetting to worry about the contents of the bag beside him.

The rest of the trip passed without incident. No one came near the quiet compartment except for the conductor who looked through the window in the small door now and then to make sure all was well with his favorite passenger. Shortly before the train reached Cheyenne, he stuck his head in the room and said in a hushed voice, "The next stop is Cheyenne. We'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thank you," Mr. Majors replied and put down his paper.

"Should I….?"

"No need. I'll take care of him. Don't worry."

The conductor reluctantly withdrew, his nostrils once more flared in suspicion. He wouldn't be surprised if Jess had been robbed of his last penny while he'd been sleeping by this shady peddler with his overstuffed bag.

When the conductor withdrew, the banker began picking up his scattered newspapers in preparation for departure, then he leaned over leaned over Jess, sincerely sorry he had to wake him.

"Jess!" he said quietly, touching him on the right shoulder. "Wake up!" When Jess muttered something and tried to burrow back into his corner, Majors shook him gently. "Wake up, boy!" he urged. "We're almost there."

Jess slowly opened his eyes, dazed with laudanum-induced sleep, but when he looked up and saw the banker's round face, he became instantly alert.

"Mr. Majors!" he exclaimed. He tried to sit up but awareness of the pain in his shattered rib made him lean back against the seat. "Is something wrong?"

"Take it easy, Jess. There's nothing wrong. We'll be coming into Cheyenne in a few minutes."

"No kiddin'?" He looked out of the window in surprise. It had stopped snowing and a wintery sun shone through the clouds. "I must've slept the whole way."

"You certainly did. You didn't even wake up when the whistle blew at every stop along the way."

Jess ran a hand over his face, but then he straightened up and threw the blanket off. "It must've done me some good. I feel better than I did this mornin'."

"You look better, too."

"Thanks for lettin' me sleep," he said and stretched out as much as he could, massaging his left arm under the bandage.

"Are you alright?" Majors asked, noticing the obvious pain on his face.

"Yeah. I just need a minute to get everything workin'." He grinned apologetically. "I didn't sleep much last night and I guess I tried to make up for it." He scrubbed his hand through his tangled hair to fluff it back into place with his fingers. "How's your luggage?" he asked, feeling a little guilty. If a gang of robbers had invaded the compartment during the last three hours, he wouldn't have known a thing about it.

"It's just fine!" Majors said, sitting back down and patting the bag beside him. "You're going to have to admit my plan is working. So far everything has gone like clockwork."

"You got a lot of guts to stuff that much money in a bag and start out alone with it. But you ain't got it in the bank yet. There's still sixty thousand dollars sitting there beside you."

"Actually, it's seventy-five thousand. Exactly."

"Seventy-five thousand dollars!" Jess was apoplectic. "You are loco! It ain't none of my business but I'll be glad when you get into the bank in Cheyenne. How much insurance you got on it if something happens?"

"Not a penny."

"I should've known."

"I'm standing behind it with my own money, Jess. It's not any worse than if it had been stolen last week. At least, if something bad happens I'll personally limit the damages. But you don't need to worry about it. It's all working out well."

"Yeah. So far. But I hope you won't make a habit of it. It's pretty damn risky."

"Not much more than sending it in one of Kellington's stages with a guard I can't trust. No, my boy, I'd rather have it in my hands than theirs."

"Yeah, and every time I have to go to Cheyenne, I'll just happen to find you sitting by me."

"Now, now. I wouldn't do that. It's just that I have so much confidence in you."

"Sure," Jess said, with a resigned look. He knew he would have tried to help Majors if there had been an emergency and that the banker had counted on this, but he wasn't mad at him. If he were honest with himself, Majors high opinion of him made him feel kind of good. He was just glad his services hadn't been needed.

"I swear to you, Jess," Majors said earnestly, "I would have understood if you'd refused to even let me in your compartment. I had no right to expect your help."

Jess shook his head and waved away any further discussion about something that was already done. "Never mind. You've gotten this far without a problem. I suppose I ought to go with you to the bank."

The banker smiled like a little boy begging for a cookie he knew he shouldn't have. "Well, frankly, you would be doing me a great favor... if...you don't mind, and it's not too much for you."

"I think I can handle it as long as you don't want to run all the way."

The banker's rotund face beamed with happy relief as a rush of gratitude filled his heart. Jess Harper was one of a kind. He'd never find another man like him. "You set the pace. W e don't want to attract attention."

"You're right about that," Jess said, beginning to think the whole thing was funny.

The shrill whistle of the locomotive seemed to confirm their plan. The train began to slow down. Outside, loading docks, freight sheds and finally the Cheyenne station came into view, framed by the stately homes of the capital city of Wyoming Territory.

Before the two men rose from their seats, the conductor appeared at the door. "We've arrived, Mr. Harper!" he announced, ignoring Mr. Majors. "Exactly on time! I hope you had a comfortable journey and," he looked disapproving at Majors, "were not disturbed."

"Everything was just fine," Jess said, getting more and more amused. The strange little drama he found himself caught in was a great distraction from his own problems.

"I'm very happy to hear that. And I'm happy to say you are looking much better than you did when you embarked."

"Gettin' some sleep helped a lot." Jess reached for his jacket, but the conductor was there before him, helping him slip into it, being very mindful of the injured shoulder.

Majors was left to his own devices. This suited him to a tee. He picked up what appeared to be his peddler's bag of wares by himself and walked toward the exit.

The conductor escorted Jess to the rear platform, set up the exit steps and adjusted them, then turned to his passenger. "Be careful going down," he warned, holding Jess' arm to assist him. "The steps are very steep." When Jess managed to reach the ground without harm, the conductor leaned toward him and said confidentially, "Don't worry about your luggage. That's all taken care of. And I'm very sorry I'm can't tell you exactly when the Denver and Rio Grande train leaves for Denver. I never try to advise passengers about their schedules since they don't stay on time the way our trains do."

"I'll figure it out," Jess said. "Thanks for everything."

"It was an incomparable pleasure, Mr. Harper." He shook Jess' hand hard and smiled earnestly at him. "Thank you for riding with us!"

Jess turned away with relief and walked over to Majors. "Maybe the first thing we should do is get rid of your luggage," he said.

"You go ahead and take care of getting your ticket for the train to Denver. I'll find us a buggy to rent."

"It ain't a good idea for you to be walkin' around with that bag."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I had the conductor convinced I was nothing but a shady salesman trying to take advantage of you."

"Yeah, that don't mean somebody else might think that bag of yours had some new clothes in it. Folks have been found face down behind a freight box with a knife in their back for less than that," Jess said, nodding at Majors' bag.

"Don't worry so much! Just pretend I'm not here."

"I ain't worryin', I'm just tellin' you the facts. And it's kind of hard to pretend you're not here since you made a point of findin' me. If you want me to help you get that cash to the bank, do me a favor and at least stay with me."

"You're right. I'm being too careless. I'll go with you to look at the timetables. I can find out when the next train leaves for Laramie."

Jess would have preferred to go straight to the bank but he settled for Majors' suggestion to buy the tickets, satisfied that the banker wouldn't be wandering around the loading area alone. Going to the ticket counter of the Denver and Rio Grande, Jess learned that the train for Denver would be leaving at four-thirty. The agent told him if he came an hour earlier he could wait in comfort in the private compartment that had been reversed for him. He was assured that he would enjoy the best services available, most certainly as good as or better than those of the Union Pacific.

After Mr. Majors found a late afternoon train back to Laramie, he hired a buggy to take both of them into downtown Cheyenne. To Jess' chagrin, Majors stopped the carriage in front of the Grand Teton Hotel instead of the bank which was located directly across the street. To Majors' way of thinking, pulling up to the bank would have attracted too much attention.

"You're goin' to drive me loco with all this game playin'," Jess complained as they crossed the street. "I'll be glad when you get rid of that bag you're totin' around."

"I agree. It's really is getting a bit too heavy for me."

Jess shook his head, unable to come up with a suitable reply. "This bank better be open or I'm goin' to have a hissy fit right here in the street," he threatened as they finally reached sidewalk in front of the solid stone building that housed the First Territorial Bank of Wyoming.

"I'm sure it has already closed for lunch, but only for the public. If I make myself known, the guard will let me in."

"Does he know you?"

"It depends on the guard. Not everyone knows me personally."

"This could be a lot of fun," Jess groused.

"Now don't get upset."

"Me? Upset? Why would I do that?"

"Just hang tight, boy," Majors grinned at him. "Why don't you come in with me? I'd like to introduce you to our President."

"I'd just as soon skip it. I ain't feelin' up to hobnobbing with big wigs today."

"As you chose," Mr. Majors answered amicably.

The bank was closed.

Mr. Majors knocked but nothing stirred. When he held his hand over his eyes and glued his nose to the window of the barred door to peer inside, he spotted some employees at work in the switch room. Two guards were staring back at him while a third ran to the office in the rear. A moment later, a clerk appeared, apparently undecided about whether or not to sound the alarm.

Majors recognized the man. He knocked a few more times and began to wave excitedly to get his attention.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they thought we were bank robbers and started shootin' at us," Jess complained.

"Nonsense. Mr. Goldblum, the cashier, has recognized me."

"Hopefully, he'll let the guard know before he puts a bullet through us."

"Things like that only happen in dime novels."

"I wouldn't know. I never read any," Jess muttered, looking around in growing discomfort. People were starting to notice them.

Mr. Majors waved his hand in front of the window again and nodded, smiling at someone inside. Finally, there was the clank of a lock, and the heavy door with the barred window cracked opened.

"Mr. Goldblum!" Major cried joyfully. "I was beginning to be afraid I'd come all this way for nothing." He pushed against the door, trying to enter but the barrel of a carbine rifle pushed back, jamming cold steel into his ample stomach. "For God's sake!" the banker barked. "Put that weapon away before you hurt somebody."

"Mr. Majors, what are you doing here?" Goldblum asked from behind the guard with the rifle. "The bank is closed."

"I know that! But I have an urgent delivery. Please let me in. It's extremely important!"

Goldblum, a precise, very responsible bank clerk peered suspiciously through the crack at the Laramie banker before his keen gaze snagged on Jess. "Who's that?" the clerk demanded, growing more alarmed as Majors moved aside and the holstered gun on Jess' thigh was revealed.

"This is Jess Harper, and he's certainly not a bank robber. He's the man who thwarted the attack in Laramie last week. He was kind enough to accompany me today, so please have the guard put down his gun and let us in!"

"I heard about that," Goldblum said, still looking appraisingly at the two men in front of him. "Alright," he backed up reluctantly, glaring at Jess' sidearm, "you can come in. But no tricks!"

"Mr. Goldblum!" Majors exclaimed, outraged. "Without Mr. Harper, this bank would have lost enormous amounts of money - and on more than one occasion! You should treat him with more respect! He's the only one I could trust with the luggage I've brought here!"

Goldblum looked down at the bag Mr. Majors had a death grip on, and then, as understanding dawned, he stared at Majors, stunned. "Are you saying what I think you are?" he asked.

"I'll tell you if you will let me in! And have the guard to get rid of that thing!" he demanded, looking at the rifle.

Goldblum stepped back, the guard and the gun disappeared, and the door opened wide enough to let Majors in.

"I'll wait out here," Jess said when Majors looked back at him.

"Don't you want to…?"

"No. Just do what you got to do. I'll be out here."

"Well, as you wish. But you'll let me take you out for lunch, I hope."

"Sure, but you better get inside with that bag you've been haulin' around."

"I'll hurry so you won't have to wait long." Majors promised. Once inside, he turned back to Jess and said, "Thank you, Jess. Thank you very much." The heavy door slammed shut, its lock instantly hammering back into place.

Jess turned around, shaking his head. "Nobody's goin' to believe this," he muttered to himself. He leaned against a canopy post, rubbing his chest. The pain was constant, but right now it was bearable.

He was relieved the money was inside the bank but out habit he studied the people and the traffic in the street, watching for any sign of trouble. Today, however, trouble snuck up on him from behind. He felt a hard, round object poke into his back. A voice said, "Don't move! You're under arrest!" The unseen man reached for the gun at Jess' side and slipped it out of its holster. "Get your hands up or I'll shoot!"

Jess pulled away from the post and lifted his right hand. **_"_** _What the hell is happenin' now?"_ he thought with grim resignation.

"I said get your hands up! Both of them!" the voice ordered. The gun was jammed harder into Jess' back, causing him to double over with pain.

"Take it easy! I'm hurt!" he gasped.

"I know I missed you when you tried to rob the freight office last week, but you ain't goin' to rob this bank today, Thatcher Savage."

"Thatcher Savage? I ain't…"

"Shut up and turn around!"

"Listen, you got this all wrong! I'm not Thatcher Savage!" Jess said, turning toward the gunman.

His adversary was a young man of about twenty with a lot of freckles on his face. He was puffed up like a toad frog in an attempt to look tough but his bright, nervous eyes gave him away. A star with the word "Deputy" hung on his scrawny chest. "Oh, sure you're not!" he said, poking the gun closer to Jess. "And I'm Santa Claus!"

"My name is Jess Harper. I'm a rancher out of Laramie."

"Tell it to the judge. Get movin'! The Marshall's office is just down the street. Just don't do anything stupid."

"You can count on that," Jess said, grinning a little, very happy to see a tall, broad shouldered man wearing a Marshall's star coming up behind the boy.

"What's going on here?" the Marshall asked with a grin and a wink at Jess that his deputy couldn't see.

"Marshall Peters! This here is Thatcher Savage!" the deputy declared. "He was hangin' around the bank and I arrested him!"

"So that's Thatcher Savage," the Marshall repeated. "I always wondered what he looked like." He reached over, plucked Jess' gun away from his surprised deputy and handed it back to Harper.

"What're you doin'?" the young man cried, outraged.

"I'm giving Jess Harper his gun back!"

"But… but that's ...that's…"

"...that isn't Thatcher Savage. Put your gun away, Vern, before Jess decides to do something about it. I don't think you want to go up against him."

The deputy turned red all the way up to his hairline. Even his neck seemed to be on fire.

"But I thought…"

"Anybody can make a mistake," Jess said. "But you ought'a be more careful. If I really was Savage you probably wouldn't be standin' here now."

The deputy holstered his gun, the red slowly draining out of his face. "My apologies, Mr. Harper," he said, mortified. "I heard about what you did in Laramie. And…and…. Well, I'm sorry I mistook you for somebody else."

Jess gave him a sideways smile and nodded. "It's OK. You're just doin' your job."

"Vern," the Marshall said, "why don't you get back to work? The judge is still waiting for that report."

"Yes, sir!" The deputy said, instantly coming to attention. "I'll get right on it! Nice to meet you, Mr. Harper!"

"If you got anything to say, say it now," Peters groaned as Vern hurried across the street to the Marshall's office.

"He'll be a good lawman one day. But you better teach him a few tricks so he'll live long enough to get there."

"He hasn't been with me long and he's still got a lot to learn," the Marshall said. Then he held out his hand to Jess. "It's good to see, Jess. What brings you to town? Are you here on bank business?"

"No, I'm keepin' Lincoln Majors company. I guess you heard about the money the bank in Laramie needed to transport. It just got here."

"And you were the guard?"

"Kind'a. It's a long story."

Peters took a hard look at him. "You don't look so good. You weren't hit in that gunfight last week were you?"

"No. Just a scratch or two. But I got a bum shoulder from the first time I ran into that gang. Doc Higgins got the bullet out but the thing ain't healin' up right. Higgin's is sendin' me to a friend of his in Colorado Springs. He's some kind of specialist."

"That's hard trip for somebody in your condition."

"I couldn't wait. I...I ain't got a lot of time."

Peters frowned and studied him harder. "You mean that?"

Jess nodded.

"Damn, Jess. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Well, it can't be changed. It could've happened anywhere, anytime." His mouth tightened. "If you play with fire you're goin' to get burned sooner or later."

"You're talking like you've been waiting for something like this to happen."

"I don't know about waitin' for it. Expectin' it maybe."

Peters felt uneasy. He could tell Jess was a very sick man by looking at his eyes. They were usually filled with a kind of steady tenacity and determination that was mixed with good humor and even gentleness, but now Peters was frightened by the sadness he saw in them.

"Well," he said, overriding his own worst fears, "that doc in Colorado Springs will fix you up for sure. But while you're here, how about having some lunch with me?"

"Sure," Jess said even though he really didn't have much of an appetite. "I don't have to be at the train station until three-thirty. You mind if Majors goes with us? I told him I'd wait on him."

"He'll make good company. I'd like to hear about this money transfer of his."

"How about goin' to Molly's Cafe? I want to say goodbye to her anyway. Is her coffee as good as ever?"

"The best in town. So is her stew. She'll be glad to see you. She always is," he said, smiling.

END OF CHAPTER 32

END OF PART II


	33. Chapter 33

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

PART III

CHAPTER 33

The rest of the journey passed without incident. The next morning Jess arrived in Colorado Springs right on time but close to collapse. During the night passage, he'd been able to sleep some but not well. When he got off the train, he was approached by a caretaker from the sanatorium.

"Mr. Harper," the man said politely. "I've been sent to meet you by Professor Tyler. Would you please come with me?"

"I got to send a telegraph first," Jess said.

"Of course. There's a telegraph office here at the depot."

After Jess sent a message back to Laramie to let Slim know he'd arrived safely, Tyler's assistant helped him climb into a light one-horse carriage. When they were seated, the man took the reins and turned toward his passenger.

"Excuse me," he said. "I haven't even introduced myself properly. Please call me George. Professor Tyler has given me the task of making sure you are taken care of during your stay with us. I hope you've had a pleasant trip."

"I can't complain. I' m pretty tired though."

"You look exhausted but you can relax here. I'm sure you'll get well soon. Professor Tyler will see to that."

"That's what I'm hopin' for."

"There's no doubt about it," George said confidently, but he'd known from the first minute he saw Jess that the Professor would have his hands full with this patient. The man sitting next to him seemed to be in the last stages of his illness.

Jess liked George at once. He was a big man, about forty years old, and was friendly and talkative. He had an aura of kindness and gentleness about him in spite of his muscular shoulders and strong physique. Jess took a deep breath and felt himself letting go. Whatever happened next wasn't entirely up to him anymore. If he couldn't get well, at least he could rest.

The sanatorium was a rambling, two-storied white house set in a clearing on the side of a forested mountain. Encircled by landscaped gardens and terraces, walking trails and ponds, it had a sense peace about it that Jess liked.

He was shown to a private room on the second floor. Two windows stretching from floor to ceiling on the south-facing wall filled the space with light for most of the day. A door by one of the windows led to a small balcony. It was sheltered on three sides to catch the warmth of the winter sun and overlooked the terrace below.

Professor Tyler met with Jess late in the afternoon of that first day. The physician was a slight, bespeckled man with an air of European reserve and sophistication. His intelligent face grew serious as he examined Jess. It was clear to the doctor that the most he could do for this particular patient was to let him rest as much as possible and support him with nutrition and medications designed to promote general good health. He had little else to offer to someone so ill.

In the following weeks, Jess allowed himself to settle into the routine of the sanatorium. He was relieved to have the burden of self-care lifted off of his shoulders. Mountain air and sunny, dry days eased his breathing, and he liked Professor Tyler's assistant, George. The man turned out to be an attentive helper and a good personal companion. As often as the weather allowed, the two men walked the rock-paved paths through the gardens and followed dirt trails through the tall evergreen forest. On the terrace beneath Jess' room, a garden chess game with large wooden figures had been set up for use by the patients. George taught Jess how to play. Olaf, a gardener and messenger for Doctor Tyler, joined them to help Jess move the heavy pieces. When the weather was warm enough, he and George sat in on the balcony adjoining his room and poured over a much smaller chess board, enjoying the sun and the game.

Jess was surprised how easy it was for him to get used to having leisure time. He knew it was because of his illness, but for the first time in his life, he learned the pleasures of idleness. As much as he could, he took advantage of the landscaped surroundings, the excellent medical care and the food prepared by the facilities chef, a woman named Liz. She delighted in finding ways to tempt his appetite.

Despite all these pleasurable activities, he made little progress toward recovery. He didn't get worse and the pain was tolerable; he even coughed less, which let him sleep better at night. Even so, he felt haunted by the dark shadow he'd picked up at home after he was wounded. It had come with him on the train to Colorado Springs, and now it followed his every step. He saw it hovering around him every morning when he looked at himself in the mirror, and he was tormented by it when a coughing fit sent waves of pain streaking throughout his body. He even felt it when it sat in the warm sunlight coming in through his windows. It was the shadow of death.

Jess took great care to hide these dark thoughts from the other patients and the staff, but he couldn't hide his condition from Dr. Tyler, who regularly examined him and always wore the same serious expression, an expression that spared Jess the trouble of asking questions that Tyler would have been reluctant to answer.

Two days before Christmas during a brief consultation with George, Dr. Tyler shared with his assistant what both of them had suspected. Jess' temporary improvement was beginning to disintegrate. His worsening health wasn't obvious to the casual observer - he was too good at concealing his growing weakness - but for an experienced caregiver and a highly specialized doctor the signs were unmistakable. Jess' slight improvement had only been a brief flare of life in a body that was in inexorable decline.

After his conference with Doctor Tyler, George went to Jess' room to take him for his daily walk. The wounded man usually stood at the head of the stairs or came down to meet him, but today George tapped on his door several times and got no answer. He finally opened the door anyway and saw Jess standing in front of the dresser, looking into the top drawer as if he were in a trance. His face was drawn so tight his skull could be seen beneath his skin. He looked like a man hesitating at the edge of a dark abyss, trying to decide whether or not to jump.

George felt a stab of fear. He knew what was in the top drawer. That was where Jess kept his black gun belt lined with a shiny row of cartridges - and the loaded gun that he meticulously maintained. He hadn't seen Jess wear the weapon since he'd gotten to the sanatorium, but now the sick man was staring fixedly at it, his face full of longing and revulsion, desire and confusion, anticipation and fear.

Standing at the dresser, staring down at his gun, Jess was lost in a nightmare, inwardly fighting with his other self, the self he was afraid of, the self that was driving him to do something he was trying to resist with all his might. For days now, he'd been aware of his ever growing weakness, not only of his physical strength but of the inhibition that had saved him from giving in to the self-destructive enemy inside of him. His desire for life was still stronger than his desire for a quick departure, but he didn't know how long he could hold out.

For George, human life was inviolate, something that had to be fought for without question for as long as possible. Since he'd met Jess, he'd come to know him as that kind of fighter, a resolute man, relentless at times. He was also a man who was more willing to sacrifice himself rather than surrender to an enemy, especially when that enemy was death itself. Now as George stood looking at him, he wasn't sure how to react. Should he leave quietly or should he confront him and help him resolve the ominous battle he was fighting within himself?

The experienced healer within him won out. He knocked loudly on the open door and called out, "Jess? Can we go?"

Startled, Jess slammed the drawer shut, feeling caught in his darkest thoughts "Sure," he said without enthusiasm.

"Is everything OK with you?"

"Yeah," he said somewhat curtly, but he let George help him on with his jacket and said, "Thanks," as they walked out the door. He sounded like he meant it in more ways than one.

"You better button up your jacket," George told him, pretending nothing had happened. "The sun is shining but it's still pretty cold outside."

He and Jess strolled silently side by side on a path that wound under ancient evergreen trees toward a small lake in a clearing that had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. George noticed Jess was struggling to keep up. Halfway to the lake, George decided he couldn't keep ignoring what had happened earlier. Something was very wrong both physically and emotionally with the man he'd grown to think of as a friend during the last few weeks.

He stopped walking. "Jess," he asked cautiously, "can I ask you something?"

"OK."

"When I picked you up at the train station that first day, I noticed you were wearing a gun."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I haven't seen you wearing it again."

"You think I need to?"

"No!" George said, somewhat embarrassed. "But I am wondering why you brought it with you."

Jess shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. "Slim wanted to know the same thing. I knew why he was askin'. How come you are?"

George took his time answering, knowing Jess probably wasn't going to like what he had to say. He said it anyway. "I saw you standing in front of the chest of drawers today."

Jess' blue eyes drilled a hole in him. "Are you spyin' on me?"

"No! Not at all! I opened the door to ask if you want to take a walk and you didn't see me. You were staring into the drawer… I was afraid to say anything… I… Well, since I've gotten to know you…" He stopped, not knowing what to say.

"Sorry I scared you," Jess bit out roughly, looking down.

"Your gun is in that top drawer, right?"

"Yeah," Jess admitted. "The territory between here and Laramie ain't the safest in the world…"

George paused for a moment, gathering up his courage, then said, "Is that the only reason you have it with you?"

"You want another one?"

George's resolve didn't waiver. "I think _you_ might have another one."

When Jess looked up, his eyes seemed to nail the assistant to the tree behind him and his dark brows drew together in anger. "What'd you mean by that?" he growled. George was sounding like Slim Sherman - but he wasn't. He didn't have the right to talk to him like that.

"Do you want me to spell it out?" George said, holding his ground.

They stared at each other, Jess bristling and George pleading to be heard.

"George, you don't…"

George interrupted him. "Jess!" he said earnestly. "I know maybe I'm not the one to be saying this, but… for God's sake, don't do it!"

"You goin' to stop me?"

"I can't stop you. You're the kind of man who can't be stopped once he makes up his mind. I know that." George's face filled with desperate compassion. "But I don't want you to do it."

Jess' tough facade started to crumble. He ducked his head and sucked in his lower lip before he turned away and looked down the path toward the lake. Quietly, as if he were talking about the weather, he said, "I can't guarantee anything. You know I ain't a chance of makin' it. Comin' here just put it off some." With a ghost of a sad smile, he turned back toward George. "You're doin' the best you can, but there're some things you can't change, no matter what. I want to have the right to check out early while I still got some dignity left. My folks at home know that and now you do, too."

"Stop talking like that!" George exclaimed. "It's not over yet! I can't believe you've given up already. Not a man like you."

Jess' mouth stretched to the side in wry resignation. "I like livin' as much as anybody. And I want to stay alive because I got people who need me. But if God ain't goin' to help me, when the time comes, I'll help myself."

"That's not a solution!" George said.

"There ain't no solution to the problem I got, at least, not one I'll survive. And I'll damn well decide for myself what to do about it."

"You're really scaring me."

"You ain't the first person to say that. I scare myself sometimes."

"That doesn't make me feel any better. I just wish you wouldn't stare into that drawer anymore."

"Yeah… Why don't we just leave it at that? And I'm sorry about callin' you a spy. I know you ain't. I wouldn't be talkin' to you if I did. Or if I didn't think you knew how to keep things to yourself."

"Jess, I like to talk - but not about what a patient tells me in confidence."

Jess nodded and turned back toward the path to the lake. He started walking again even though he really didn't feel like it.

He'd only gone a few steps ahead when the George called to him. "Jess!

Jess turned around, wary and somewhat impatient. "Yeah?"

"Thank you," George said.

"What for?"

"For your openness. For you confidence. I'm honored."

Jess stared at the man, not sure how to react. Then the glimmer of another sad smile crossed his face. "At first neither one of us had much to say, then I talked too much. And now you're doin' it. Come on. Let's both stop talkin' and go find that lake."

Jess walked on, but moved slower and slower. To stay with him, George slowed down, too. After a few minutes, he stopped completely because his patient had fallen several paces behind him. Turning to look for him, the assistant saw Jess bent double, his right hand pushed hard against his chest. His face was contorted with pain and he was struggling to breathe.

"Jess! What's wrong?" George hurried back to him and put his arm around him to keep him from falling over. "I knew you weren't doing well when I saw you this morning. We shouldn't have come so far. It's been too much for you."

"It's over now," Jess said weakly, trying to push him away.

"Should I go back to the house and get the carriage?"

"No. I'm alright."

"Are you sure?"

Jess nodded.

George stayed at his side. "You need to rest for a while," he said anxiously and helped him over to some tree trunks that were stacked at the side of the trail. Jess leaned against them, panting for breath. "Just take it easy for a minute," the assistant urged. "When you're up to it, we'll go back the fastest way."

"I feel like I've been shot by an arrow with barbs on it," Jess groaned.

"Where does it hurt?" George asked, his arm still firmly around Jess.

"All over," he moaned, then started coughing violently, clinging to George, digging into his wound, choking and gagging on the mucus in his throat.

George grabbed his wrist and firmly pulled it his hand away from the wound, wrapping his fingers around Jess'. "You're only making it worse. Hold on to my hand instead. Squeeze it as hard as you can but don't push on that crushed rib!"

"It ...hurts… so...much."

"I know." George massaged Jess' left arm trying to release the cramped muscles. "Focus on your breathing the way I taught you to. Slow and easy. It's going to get better. Just hold on until it passes."

It took Jess a long time to regain control of his breathing. As he fought to endure the pain, he clung to George like a drowning man clings to a raft, and George held onto him, talking to him, staying with him until the attack began to ease.

"Why...why does it hurt so much?" Jess asked, his voice cracking as he raised his head and straightened up. "Why can't it just kill me without tormentin' me like this?"

"Nobody going to die. You have to stop thinking like that."

"Don't start lyin' to me. I know it's gettin' worse. All I have to do is look at myself in the mirror every day."

"Every day isn't the same, Jess. Some days you feel worse than others. You can't read too much into that."

"Quit kiddin' yourself - and me. Today is probably the last time I can walk this far…" When George didn't respond, Jess said, "You got nothin' to say about that?"

"What can I say?" George said, unable to pretend anymore.

"How long… how long do you give me?"

"I don't know." George shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "I really don't. But you can't give up. Sometimes things happen that we can't explain. It's a miracle you've survived a wound like that for this long. Medical science is a long way from knowing everything. You're a strong-willed person, a fighter. I see no reason to try to make any kind of prediction about you."

"That sounds real good but I don't believe it's goin' to impress that devil that's after me."

"A devil?" George said, hurt by Jess's despair.

"He's been after me ever since that day I got shot."

"No, Jess. No devil is after you. You're the one in charge of what happens to you."

"That's what I used to think," Jess said softly. "I met him for the first time four months ago. Slim was the only one who could back him off. Him and Mike and Daisy - they all helped me fight him. But I can't do it anymore. I can't hold him off anymore."

George squeezed his shoulder. "Maybe you should get your people to come see you."

"No! I don't them here!"

"Why not? You miss them. I can feel it. You're missing your boy most of all. Wouldn't it help…?"

"Yeah, I miss him. But I can't do that to him. He had go through it for too long as it is. I don't want to put him through the rest of it."

"I… I...," George swallowed hard. "I knew you were getting worse but…"

"Come on, George! Let just go back while I can still walk."

With frequent stops along the way, George was finally able to get him back to the house. Instead of lying down immediately, Jess insisted on sitting on the balcony in the sun.

George spread a warm blanket over him. "I'll send Doctor Tyler up to check on you," he told him. "He's downstairs."

"Don't do that. Just let me be for a while."

"Are you sure there's nothing else I can do for you?"

"No! I'm fine."

The assistant reluctantly turned to go, but he paused as he passed the dresser and stared at the top drawer, wondering if he ought to take the gun out of the room. The sick man was facing away from him and seemed to be falling asleep. Perhaps he wouldn't notice.

Jess' angry voice stopped him. "I wouldn't touch that gun, if I was you. Slim Sherman's the only one that can do that. I'm too tired to get up and get it anyway."

George swallowed nervously, wondering how Jess knew what he was thinking. "Of course," he said, embarrassed and more than a little unsettled by his patient's uncanny perception. "I'll be close by if you need me," he said, knowing there was nothing else he could do. "See you later."

Despite the tight knot in his stomach, the assistant walked out of the room and left Jess alone.

END OF CHAPTER 33


	34. Chapter 34

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 34

In the days that followed, Jess' health worsened every day. Faithfully attended by George, he could go out on the terrace for a few moments as long as the weather was good but these trips out into the fresh air exhausted him so much it took hours for him to recover.

Dr. Tyler probably could have forbidden these small excursions, but he didn't. As a physician, his task now was to prevent Jess from sinking into lethal depression. There was nothing more medical treatment could do.

A few days after Christmas George and Jess were at the end of a garden chess game that had been going on for several days. George was moving Jess' figures as well as his own because Olaf was busy elsewhere, but he noticed how difficult it was for Jess to concentrate on the moves. His alarm increased when Jess complained of being cold despite the warmth of the sun on the flagstones of the sheltered garden and the reading of the large thermometer by the back staircase.

George looked at his patient more closely and said, "You might have a fever. I suspected something like that this morning."

"Nah," Jess said. George could barely hear him.

"You look exhausted today."

"I'm just tired - but I am cold."

George walked over to him and laid his hand on Jess' forehead, but his forebodings were already confirmed by Jess' over bright eyes. "You have a fever! A high one!" He immediately took off his own coat and threw it around Jess' shoulders. "Come on. We need to get you in bed."

"I think you might be right," Jess said weakly.

George threw his arm around him and led him back toward the house. Jess held onto the assistant with all of his remaining strength as a pain stabbed through his chest. It was followed by another violent coughing attack. He fell to his knees, but George lifted him up and got him into his room and into bed.

Jess shook all over as repeated waves of cold chills wracked him. George raised the adjustable bed so that his patient was propped up into a half-sitting position, but Jess still struggled for breath even though George directed the ventilation system toward his sweat covered face. He rolled around the bed in agony as George pulled the bell at the top of the bed to summon Doctor Tyler.

"I'm suffocatin'!" Jess choked out as George took hold of him to prop him up.

"You'll be alright! Don't talk. Just try to breathe evenly!"

"That hurts...so...much!"

"I know. But try to breathe evenly. Doctor Tyler is on his way. Just take slow, even breaths! I'm right here with you!"

Jess couldn't do it. His weakened body succumbed to the fever and pain and lack of oxygen. He fell into a semi-consciousness and was barely aware of Doctor Tyler's examination or of the infirmary equipment George quickly set for the doctor's use.

After his examination, Tyler decided to use quinine to help control the fever. He had George mix up the bitter-tasting medication and told him to add some laudanum to it. When George handed him the beaker, Tyler held it up to Jess' lips saying, "This will help with the fever and the pain. It takes a moment or two to take effect, but it will help you sleep. When you wake up, you will feel better."

"It...won't be...much longer, will it?" Jess whispered, his face ashen and twitching with pain.

"You'll be alright, Jess," Tyler assured him with as much confidence as he could muster, but his face was solemn. "Just relax, now. George will stay with you."

The doctor waited patiently on the side of the bed until the soothing medicine took effect. Jess didn't try to resist it. He was glad that the pain was lessening and welcomed the heaviness that spread over his body. It was a relief to fall asleep.

"He's dying, isn't he?" George asked Tyler.

"Yes," Tyler said in a subdued voice. "I can't help him. That was clear to me from the very beginning. He knew it, too, but he came here anyway."

"I think he wanted to spare his people at home."

"I'm sure of that. I wish I could have helped him. Now the only thing I can do is numb his pain and make his death as easy as possible."

"Do you want me to notify Slim Sherman?"

"No, not yet." He looked down at Jess asleep on the bed. "I think it's time to do that, but I know Jess doesn't want it. I don't agree with him about that but it is his right, and I have to respect his wishes. Jess would see it as a betrayal of his trust. He's a man of great sensitivity. I suppose we shouldn't disappoint him in his last few hours." The doctor frowned, unsure of his decision. Then he took a breath and looked at his assistant. "Take good care of him, George. Check his breathing and his heartbeat on a regular basis and keep me informed of any changes. Maybe I can give him a few more hours. I don't want anyone to accuse me of not having done everything humanly possible."

"I won't leave him," George said, looking sadly at the man on the bed.

Despite the doctor's worst fears, Jess' fever was controlled with the quinine. He regained consciousness, but he was so weak he couldn't get out of bed. His attacks of pain and coughing were treated with Tyler's medications and were eased by the excellent ventilation system installed throughout the house. George was constantly with him, bathing him, shaving him, helping him eat and drink, responsive to his every need. Jess was too weak to protest. Helped by the calming effect of the medications, he even seemed to experience a kind of peace.

One morning George settled Jess back into bed after putting fresh sheets and blankets on it. He smiled at his patient and said as cheerfully as he could, "You know what, Jess? I'd like to finish our chess game."

"No point in it," Jess whispered, unable to speak normally. "And you know it. I should've put a stop to this before it got this bad."

"Don't talk like that! It wouldn't have been right."

"I'm goin' to die soon. You... could make it... easier for me."

"No! I won't do that! In fact, I'll make it as hard as possible. You said you were a bad loser. I am, too." He dabbed a wet cloth over Jess' sweaty temples. "You've come this far. You can't let a little fever stop you now."

"It ain't just a little fever I'm up against and...I ain't... givin' up,... Just... facin' facts."

Jess gasped. Talking so much had set off the pain in his lungs. George picked up the stethoscope and put it to Jess' chest and then to his neck to listen to the pulse. He knew without using a thermometer that the fever was rising again and that it was time for another dose of quinine. Jess sipped the bitter medicine without even asking if laudanum had been added. He didn't care anymore. If it helped him go to sleep and not wake up again, that would be fine with him.

He dozed and the pain eased, but he didn't fall asleep. Instead, his eyes opened and he said hoarsely, "George, would you promise me something?"

George, sitting next to the bed, was startled, thinking Jess was sleeping. He leaned closer and said, "Sure, Jess. If I can."

"When Slim...comes to take me...home...don't tell him what I'm goin' through… he'd just feel guilty…"

"But he's your friend. He would want to know…"

"I ain't got the strength to explain… Just promise me…"

George covered Jess' slack hand with his own. "Of course, I will. I promise. But it won't be necessary for him to come," he said softly.

"Yeah..., it will…"

The medication finally took full effect, and Jess slept for a few, pain-free hours. George stayed by his side, only taking a break to eat lunch while Doctor Tyler took his place. While the assistance was in the kitchen, Olaf arrived from town with the day's mail. There were several bills, medical journals, a box of chemicals, a fashion catalog for the cook, and a letter from the Sherman Ranch.

In addition to the telegram he'd sent when he first arrived, Jess had managed to write three letters home. For Jess, this was an achievement. Letter writing was not his favorite thing to do, and his handwriting was not the best, but letters came for him from Laramie on a regular basis. Sometimes, they made both George and Jess laugh, especially when they read something Mike had written, but they often seemed to make Jess sad. Today, when George saw the letter from the Sherman Ranch lying on the kitchen table, he lost some of his appetite. Reading it probably wouldn't make his patient feel any better. He carried the letter with him when he went back upstairs.

An hour later Jess woke up, groggy from the medication and still feverish.

"Feel better?" George asked, leaning over him to wash off his face and check his vital functions with the stethoscope.

"A little," Jess said and drank the water George offered him.

"Olaf brought the mail from town," George said. "There's a letter for you." He laid the envelope like a precious gem directly on the sheet in front of Jess.

Jess hesitantly reached for it, his hand trembling as he held the letter up to read the address which Mike had written in his very best script so that there could be no mistake or delay in the delivery.

"It's from Mike," Jess said, a wistful smile crossing his sunken face. "I bet you he's goin' to tell me... that Daisy nearly fainted... when she got that sewing machine at Christmas."

"I'm sure she was happy about it."

"Yeah…"

"While you read that, I'm going to get Liz to bring you something to eat."

"I ain't hungry."

George ignored him and went out in the hall to call for Liz to bring Jess' lunch up to his room. He came back with a tray of food, set it down on one of the tables, and cranked up the bed so Jess was in a sitting position, but Jess lacked the strength to eat by himself. He had no appetite anyway. George gently encouraged him to eat and helped him with the spoon until his patient ate some of the food. When he cleared the tray away, he noticed the envelope lying unopened on the bed covers. Jess hadn't had the strength to open it.

"You haven't read the letter," he said, surprised. "Do you need me to open it up for you?"

Jess nodded. "Yeah..." he whispered.

"But, Jess, it's personal. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He swallowed down another stab of pain in his chest.

George reluctantly pulled the letter out of the envelope, giving time for Jess to change his mind, but when he saw Jess had closed his eyes so he could concentrate on listening, George read the two pages Mike had written about school and Browny and his desire for Jess to come home soon.

When George came to the end of the boy's letter, he said, "There's a note from Slim Sherman," he said. "'Daisy is fine and so am I. We're pulling for you. We need you. Come home soon. Slim.'" He refolded the letter and waited for Jess to say something.

"Thanks," Jess whispered. "Now do me a favor, OK?"

"Sure." George put the letter back in the envelope and placed it on the bed. Jess' hand closed around it as if he were holding on to Mike's hand instead of a piece of paper.

"I want you to write a letter for me."

"Of course. I'll write whatever you tell me to."

Jess struggled for breath. "I...can't even...do that. Just write whatever...you want to … You know what...to say."

"He'll know it's not you," George said, frowning, hesitant to take on this responsibility.

"He won't notice…"

"Slim Sherman will."

"Slim'll understand. Just... hurry up so I can still... hold a pen... to sign it."

Shaking his head, George sat down at a table and did as Jess asked. When he'd written a few lines, making them sound as much like Jess as he could, he brought the letter back to Jess' bedside. Jess seemed to be asleep.

"Jess?" he said quietly.

Jess opened his eyes. "I ain't asleep. You got it done?"

"Yes. Do you want me to read it to you?"

Jess nodded and George the brief note to him. When he came to the end, Jess said, "That'll do. Now get me the...pen so I...can...sign it."

George didn't like it - he was too much of a straight arrow to approve of even this small deception - but he dipped the pen in ink, put the letter on the hard surface of a book and guided Jess' hand to the bottom of the page. Jess concentrated all his efforts on his signature, but the final "S" in his name streaked in a long curve to the edge of the paper and ended in a large black blob. It looked as if in his weakness he'd lost control of the pen at the last moment.

When George saw the blotched signature, he said, "I'll rewrite the letter so you can sign it again."

"No," Jess said. "That's the ...way ...I want it. Mike won't notice, but Slim'll understand."

Baffled, George shrugged in disapproval. "If that's what you want to do."

"And address the letter… to Slim Sherman."

"Not Mike?"

"No."

"But…"

"Just do it, George."

"OK, Jess." He put the letter into the envelope and addressed it. "I'll ask Olaf to take it to the post office today."

"Thanks, George. For everything." Satisfied, he closed his eyes and sank back against the pillows. Slim would get the letter in three days. He fell into an exhausted sleep.

For the next four days, Jess fought pain and fever, fading in and out of consciousness. Two days after New Year's Day, he once found the strength to ask George for one more favor.

"You...you got… to do...something...for me."

George could barely hear him. He leaned down and put his ear next to Jess' mouth.

"When...Slim comes...to get me...tell him...I'm sorry...and...that he...needs to...bury...the damn...thing...with...me."

George didn't have any idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. Jess' head lolled to the side and he lay still. George reached up, yanked the emergency bell and grabbed the stethoscope to listen to Jess' heart. He heard a faint, erratic throb and weak lung noise, but at least his patient still lived.

Doctor Tyler rushed into the room, quickly assessed the situation and told George, "Prepare an ether injection! Hurry, or we're going to lose him!"

With deft competence, George prepared the medication and handed the needle to Tyler who ran it under Jess' skin, plunging the fluid into his comatose body. Then he pushed his stethoscope against Jess' chest and waited, listening for the sounds of life or death.

After a few moments, he took a deep breath and straightened up. "We still have him, George. I don't know for how long, but for right now he's still with us."

"Thank God. Does he have a chance?"

Tyler shook his head. "The fever will take him. I can't give him any more quinine. His heart won't be able to handle it."

"It's amazing what this man can endure."

"I agree. But for the last several weeks, I've had a suspicion that he's been looking for a discreet way to end his life. I can't imagine he brought his weapon here for any other reason. I'm surprised he hasn't asked you to give him something to help him on his way."

George looked down to avoid the doctor's eyes. "He wouldn't do that."

"Only because he wouldn't want to involve you. And, since I know you well, even if he had asked, you would have refused."

George's lips tightened. "Well, even if he has thought about it, I don't think he was serious. He wants to live. Otherwise, he would have died a long time ago."

Tyler nodded, looking thoughtfully at his patient. Jess' face was sunken. Razor sharp cheekbones rose beneath eyes that were hollow and squeezed tightly shut, and his grey, cracked lips were partially opened. He looked like a dead man.

"His breathing is going to our next problem," Tyler said. He handed George the stethoscope. "Don't leave him. It's time to send a telegram notifying Slim Sherman of his condition. Perhaps I should have done it earlier."

Doctor Tyler found Olaf out in the hall and asked the slight young man to follow him to his office at the front of the house.

"Is something wrong with Jess?" Olaf asked. "Liz said she heard his bell ringing. Is he...is he…"

"The end can come at any moment," Tyler replied without looking up from the paper he was writing on. He handed the note to Olaf. "Take this to the telegraph office and make sure the operator sends it out at once. Have Laramie notify us of receipt and tell them to take the message out to the Sherman Ranch immediately. It's all there in the note."

Olaf nodded sadly and stared at the doctor who had been a father to him for the last ten years. "I'm so sorry about Jess."

"We're all sorry," Tyler said heavily. "But I'm afraid there's nothing we can do to change it. Make sure that message gets to Slim Sherman as soon as possible. That's probably the last thing you can do for Jess. Hurry up, my boy."

END OF CHAPTER 34


	35. Chapter 35

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 35

After the train pulled of sight heading for Colorado Springs with Jess aboard, Slim went into Laramie. He delivered Daisy's grocery list to Burke Hershell's General Store, went by to update Mort Corey on Jess' departure, and then went to the Stockman's Saloon to let the barkeeper know he was looking for a hired hand.

Ten days later, just as Slim was getting really worried about the neglected cattle and the unrepaired northern fence, a Montana man named Charlie Grover showed up at the ranch. He'd just quit an outfit because of problems between the foreman and the owner's son and had been told by the bar keep at the saloon that Slim was looking for a hand.

Charlie turned out to be a reliable, hard-working man of about forty. He had a lot of experience and a willingness to tackle any job that needed to be done. Having him around relieved Slim of having to handle everything by himself. Slim liked him, too. He was an easy going man and even tried to make friends with Mike, without a lot of success. Mike suspected him of trying to take Jess' place.

The whole thing came to a head one night at dinner. Slim had invited him to eat with the family instead of sitting alone in the bunkhouse. Charlie objected, not used to being that close to the boss's family. Hired hands were kept at a distance at the Wild Goose Ranch where he'd worked before.

"As long as you're the only one in the bunkhouse, I want you to come on over to the house for meals," Slim told him. "Things'll change if we get the option for the extra land when my partner comes back. We'll have to hire more people. But until then, you're welcome to eat with us."

Mike didn't like it at all. Less than three weeks after Jess had left, someone else was taking his place at the table.

"That's where Jess sits!" the boy lashed out angrily when he saw Charlie seated across from him.

"Mike!" Slim said sternly. "That's no way to talk. Charlie's not a stranger anymore."

"He is to me!"

"I don't want to hear anything else about it! Charlie's eating with us now, and that's all there is to it."

"It's all right, Slim," Grover said. "I understand how the boy feels."

Slim ignored him and looked at Mike. "There's no reason for you to be behaving like this," he snapped. "Settle down and eat!"

"Slim! Please!" Daisy intervened, bringing in a platter of roast beef. "Why don't you all serve your plates before things get cold?"

Slim bit back whatever he was about to say. Mike ducked his head, mad at the world. He didn't dare say anything else but toyed with his food until the meal was over, silently enduring the small talk around the table until he was able to take his plate into the kitchen and help Daisy clean up.

Daisy watched him out of the corner of her eye as the boy dried the dishes with his mouth drooping. After he'd spent two minutes wiping one blue patterned plate over and over again, she said gently, "What's the matter, Mike? Isn't that plate clean enough?"

The boy looked up in surprise. He wasn't thinking about the plate at all. "No," he said slowly. "The plate's OK."

"Well, then put it up before you drop it. I can't imagine you can get it any drier."

"OK." He carefully placed it on top of the others he'd stacked on the counter and reached for the next one. "Aunt Daisy," he asked, "will Charlie eat with us all the time?"

 _"_ _Ah, ha!"_ she thought to herself, relieved the boy had found a way to talk to her about what he was feeling. Out loud, she asked, "Would you mind?"

Mike took his time answering as he dried and stacked two more of the prized blue pottery. "Not really," he finally murmured.

"But…?" Daisy prompted, knowing there was more.

"Nothing…" He shrugged and twirled the towel around and around his finger.

"Well, then!" Daisy said brightly. "Everything's fine!"

The boy shrugged again but when Daisy kept her silence, he finally asked, "I mean...I guess...Charlie is...part of the family now...just like Jess?"

 _"_ _There's the problem!"_ Daisy thought, but to Mike, she said, "Why would you say something like that?"

"I don't know…"

Daisy reached for a towel, dried her hands and put her arm around Mike's shoulders. She waited for him to look up but he kept his head ducked.

"Mike," she said in her firm, bright voice, "we're a family - you, Slim, Jess and I. How could you think we could replace a family member with someone we're still getting to know? If Charlie eats with us in the house, it doesn't mean Charlie could ever take Jess' place."

"That's what he's doing now!"

"For heaven's sake! I didn't mean where he sits at the table! Or is there some other problem?"

"I don't know," Mike said, fiddling with the towel with his shoulders hunched and head still bowed. He was unable to put into words what was bothering him.

"Mike, look at me. That's what adults do when they talk to each other," she said. She put her hand under his chin, lifted it up and waited until he met her eyes before she continued. "Charlie is a nice person - a good person. And he's a very hard worker. Slim couldn't have found a better helper. And I've noticed that you usually get along just fine with him."

"But he's not Jess!"

"Of course he's not!"

"And he never will be! Never!"

"Mike, that makes no sense! How would Charlie ever become Jess? That's absurd!"

"But...but...I don't like it when Slim...when he…"

"Slim? What does Slim do? For goodness sakes, child! What are you talking about?"

"Well, Slim's being so friendly to him... and maybe Slim will like Charlie better… Maybe Slim doesn't think Jess will come home…"

Daisy put her hand on her forehead in complete astonishment, then she took Mike's shoulders and shook him a little. "Slim Sherman has been Jess Harper's best friend for eight years! He's shared everything with him, the good things and the bad things. They're like brothers! Slim's probably more worried about him than you or me! And he knows they're going to need help when he gets back. Charlie's being here has nothing to do with Jess getting well or Slim being Jess' friend! You must not ever doubt that!"

"But...I mean… I thought…"

"Oh, Mike," she said sadly. "I know what Jess means to you. But he means just as much to Slim."

"I'm just afraid…," he said on the verge of tears. "I'm so afraid Jess won't come back."

"I know, child." She hugged him and then released him so she could look at him. "But I think he promised you that he would."

"But maybe he can't do it. I mean...it wouldn't be his fault… He just can't do it."

"Then we must leave that in God's hands. And if the dear Lord decided…. But that's not going to happen! Jess will come back!" She put as much certainty as she could into her words. "It may take a long while for him to get well but you'll see! The good Lord won't let him down. With his help, Jess will be alright."

"Maybe the good Lord won't help him. Maybe he doesn't like him."

"Doesn't like him? Mike! The Lord loves everybody! Why wouldn't he like Jess?"

"I don't know." He shrugged again. "If he loves him, why did he let Hal shoot him? Why did he let that happen?"

"That's a good question," Daisy had to admit... "Maybe he wanted to put us all to a very hard test."

"A test? Like at school?"

"Yes, in a way. Perhaps he wanted to check whether or not our love for each other was strong enough to stand such a strain."

"Then maybe I've failed the test!" Mike was terrified. "Maybe I haven't done it right! The Lord's got to understand! It's not Jess' fault if I didn't do things good enough! I'm sorry I got mad about Charlie…"

"Calm down, Mike!" Daisy said, surprised at how seriously he'd taken her comment. "I think the Lord is like a very loving parent and is not too strict. But…" she added, deciding to take advantage of the situation, maybe you should try to be a little more understanding about how hard things are for Slim."

"I will!" Mike vowed. "I promise! You...you won't tell him what I said...about him and Charlie, will you?"

"No, Mike. I think that's something you and Slim must sort out yourselves - man to man."

"I'll write to Jess about it, too!"

"I don't think that's a very good idea."

"Why not?"

"You shouldn't worry Jess about things like this. He needs his strength to take care of himself right now."

Mike chewed on his lower lip, thinking. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can tell him when he gets back."

"I believe that would be best. Now, don't you think we should finish cleaning up this kitchen?"

"OK," Mike said, relieved to have discussed his problems with her. "You know what, Aunt Daisy," he said. "If you were younger, I'd tell Jess that he should marry you. You're the only person I would want for a mother."

Daisy laughed. "Well, thank you! You're full of interesting comments today. But I'm not sure Jess and I would be a good match."

"Sure you would. You like each other."

"Yes, we do. Very much. But it's more like a relationship...between mother and son."

"I meant if you were younger."

"Would you like Jess to get married?"

"No, not really."

"But then you would have a real family. That would be nice."

"I don't think so! She might be mean. And they might think I'm a nuisance."

"I can't see Jess liking a mean woman. Or seeing you as a nuisance."

"Jess and I pretty much agree about women. We've been talking a lot about them."

Daisy suppressed a laugh. "You don't think much of us, do you, young man?"

"Oh, we don't mean you!"

"Well, whether Jess ever gets married or not, this is your home. We'll always be here for you."

"I wish he was home already. I'm always wondering what he's doing."

"He'll be alright. Once winter is over and it gets warmer in the springtime, he'll be home before you know it."

"You know what? I'm counting up the days until spring comes. It's real hard, but I think I can do it."

"Good for you! Now let's go into the living room and finish that homework of yours!" Daisy said, throwing her arm around his thin shoulders and hugging him as they walked out of the kitchen.

As soon as homework was finished and Mike went up to his room, Slim came out of his office and sat down beside Daisy. She glanced up at him and smiled but didn't say anything.

"You think I'm too hard on him," he said, coming straight to the point.

"I think you're too hard on yourself, too," Daisy said, understanding exactly what he meant.

"I'm not so sure of that."

"I am. You've been under a great deal of strain. Slim," she said. She picked up some knitting from the basket by the side of her chair. "Do you know what Mike was really upset about at dinner?" she said, pulling out a strand of blue yarn. "He was afraid you liked Charlie more than you like Jess! He thought you would let Charlie take Jess' place!"

Slim stared at her, baffled. "How could he think that?"

"Well, he has a lively imagination. And you must remember he's just a ten-year-old boy." Looking down at the knitting needles in her hand, she said, "Why don't you go talk to him? He needs to know you're still Jess' best friend - and his, too!"

"You think that would help? He's pretty mad at me right now."

"I'm sure it would. He's probably hoping you'll come."

Slim raised his brows, looking at her with a question in his eyes. "Are you sure?"

Daisy pursed her mouth. "It would be best to straightened things out between you as soon as you can," she said firmly. "After all, you must set a good example for Mike."

Slim smiled at her, slapped his knees with his hands and got up. "Thanks, Daisy. I think you're the best friend any of us have."

The tall rancher climbed the stairs to Mike's room and knocked on the door before opening it. "Hi, Mike," he said, sticking his head through the crack. "Can I come in?"

Mike was leaning back in the chair at the table near his bookcase, praying. A geography book with a map showing the way to Colorado Springs lay open on in front of him. When he heard Slim's voice, he sat up quickly, surprised and a little worried. If a prayer was interrupted it might lose its effect, but he looked around anyway and said, "Sure," and watched warily as Slim walked over to him. "I guess you're mad at me for what I said to Charlie."

"You think I ought to be?"

Mike looked down at his geography book, concentrating hard on the black circle he'd penciled around the town where Jess was. "Maybe," he muttered, embarrassed by his behavior at the table and by what he'd said to Daisy about Slim in the kitchen.

"You know," Slim said pulling up a chair next to the table, "I've been thinking." Hands clasped, elbows on knees, he leaned toward the boy. "Maybe you were out of line at dinner but...so was I. I can put my foot into my mouth sometimes, too."

Chin on his chest, Mike didn't look up, but he grinned. Slim wasn't mad at him anymore. "It's OK," he said.

"Thanks." Slim glanced at the book on the table in front of the boy. "You doing homework?"

"Nah. I already did that."

"Well, that's a good map of the area you got there. I see you marked where our ranch is." He pointed to the spot. "You got it right."

"And here is where Jess is!" Mike said, putting his finger on Colorado Springs. "Do you...do you think he's thinking about me?"

Slim put his arm around him. "Sure - and not just right now. If I know Jess, he thinks about you all the time. You miss him a lot, don't you?"

Mike ducked his head. "And he misses me, too."

"I know that.

"You miss him, too, don't you? I mean...I mean...he's still your friend, isn't he?"

"He's my best friend, Mike. It's like...well, it's like he's a part of me. You know that. Why're you worrying about it? Is it something I've done? If it is, we need to talk about it."

"I...I don't know... Don't get mad, Slim! But... you're so friendly to Charlie… And he's eating in the house...just like Jess. And you got so much work to do and Charlie is helping you...and Jess is sick… And I'm always doing something wrong…" Mike was breathing hard, close to tears.

"Whoa, Mike, simmer down." He hugged the boy closer. "You're getting all worked up over nothing. Jess is like my brother. He's not a hired hand. He owns half of this ranch. We're partners. No matter how sick Jess is or how long he stays away, nothing will change between the two of us. He's my friend - and always will be - and I want him to get well and come home. It hurts a lot to know how sick he is."

"It hurts you? Like it hurts me?"

"Yeah. Look...," Slim said, "I know I'm rough on you sometimes and...Well, I'm sorry."

"You're real worried, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Slim said. "There's no point in saying I'm not. Jess is in pretty bad shape. That's why he had to go to Colorado Springs."

"I know. He told me. Do you think he's getting better since he got there?"

"Sure," Slim said, deliberately shielding the boy from his own fears. "Doc Higgins sent him to the best doctor he knows. And you've read the letters. Jess says he's doing OK."

"But you're still worried," Mike said obstinately.

"Yeah," Slim sighed. "I'm still worried. And that's why I act like a jackass sometimes. Just help me out and let me know about it when I get that way so we can talk it out. OK?"

Mike smiled at him and nodded his head vigorously.

"Friends again?" Slim said, smiling back.

"We always have been!"

"And we're going to stay that way, right? You and Jess and me…"

"...and Aunt Daisy!"

"...and Aunt Daisy!" Slim agreed.

"And Charlie?" Mike asked, hesitantly.

"Charlie's a good man. If he stays around, I think he'll get to be a good friend of the family."

"Like Mort Corey?"

"Yep. Just like Mort."

"I bet when Jess gets back, he'll like him, too."

"I bet he will. Now about Charlie eating at the table…"

"Oh, that's OK. I don't mind now. Do you think he'll always work for us?"

"I hope so. He's a good man. We're lucky to have him. I think Jess will agree with me when he gets to know him."

"Slim…," Mike said thoughtfully. "Do you...do you think I should tell Charlie I'm sorry about what I said to him tonight?

"It wouldn't hurt. A man to man talk would straighten things out between the two of you. I tell you what - why don't you think about what you want to say? I want to go downstairs and talk to Daisy for a while before she goes to bed."

"Thanks, Slim!" Mike jumped up when Slim got up and threw his arms around the rancher in a quick, fierce hug. "You're my best friend after Jess!"

Slim rubbed the boy's head. "Thanks, partner," he said softly, understanding the value of the gift he'd been given.

"I think I'll go out to the bunkhouse and talk to Charlie now," Mike said, pulling away and heading for the door. Before he went out, he turned to look back at Slim. "Is that OK?"

"Sure. But if you decide to go out to the barn to check on Browny, make sure you close the corral gate behind you."

"OK!"

Mike ran down the stairs and out of the house, slamming the front door behind him and startling Daisy who was sitting by the fire, knitting in hand. She looked around, confused, as Slim came down the stairs.

"Should he be going outside now?"

"It's not that late," Slim said, sitting down in the chair beside her. "And he's not a kid anymore. Besides, he's got something to do."

Daisy arched her eyebrows and smiled knowingly. "Charlie?"

"Yeah. You were right. Maybe I need to do more listening than talking and go easier on him. And _you_ ," he said teasing her, "could go easier on both of us."

"Oh, you! You're just as bad as Jess when I catch him in the kitchen eating a cookie before supper." She sighed and dropped her hands together in her lap, resting them on top of her yarn. "I thank God every day for letting me find such a wonderful family in my old age. And," she said sadly, "I pray every day that it won't be torn apart. If we lose Jess…"

"Don't start worrying, Daisy."

"Slim Sherman, I know you worry, too! And don't tell me you don't! I know you better than that."

"Yeah, you're right. But it's more than just worrying. I can't get rid of feeling like it's my fault, that I could have done something to stop what happened. It's dug its teeth into me. The harder I get to shake it off, it tighter it holds on."

Daisy reached out and put her hand on his arm. "I know, Slim. But you still must try to get over it. It doesn't help you - it doesn't help any of us - for you to agonize so much over it."

"I know it. But it hits me out of nowhere - like a fever that goes away and then comes back again. Maybe it'll get better when Jess gets well and comes home. But... if he doesn't…"

"Then we'll keep hoping and praying for the best - for both of you."

"More for him than for me, Daisy," Slim said, staring into the fire.

END OF CHAPTER 35


	36. Chapter 36

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 36

At Christmas, no one at the Sherman Ranch was in a holiday mood even though Slim and Daisy tried to make the best of it for Mike's sake. Everyone went through the motions except for Daisy's joyful astonishment when she saw her new sewing machine. She acknowledged this special gift with a radiant smile and with tears for the gift and the giver. Charlie was the only one who really seemed to take any pleasure in the day. He truly enjoyed the Christmas dinner Daisy made and the company of the Sherman family.

A day after the New Year, Mike's gloomy attitude brightened when the noon stage brought a letter from Colorado Springs. At first, he was disappointed that the envelope had Slim's name on it but he cheered up as soon as the rancher opened the letter and handed to him, saying, "Here, Mike. It's for you."

"For me!" Mike yelled and grabbed it like a thirsty person grabbing a glass of cold water.

"I'm surprised he's written another letter so soon," Slim said, puzzled. He'd noticed the strange angle of Jess' signature and had wanted to take a closer look.

"I'll read it to you!" Mike said. "OK?"

"Sure. Thanks."

"Aunt Daisy!" Mike shouted for her to come into the living room. "Aunt Daisy! Do you want to listen to the letter from Jess?"

"What's that?" Daisy said, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

"A letter from Jess! I'm going to read it to Slim!"

"Another letter from Jess? So soon? We just got one from him at Christmas. What does he say?"

Mike began to read with ardent enthusiasm, savoring every word.

When he finished, Daisy felt relieved. "It sounds like everything is alright with," she said. "And he seems to like it there, too."

"I hope he doesn't like it so much he won't come home!" Mike said.

"I can't imagine that happening," Daisy responded. Then she noticed Slim's odd expression. "What's the matter?" she asked him. "Is something wrong?"

Slim seemed to somewhere else. He stared absently at the envelope in his hands, but he was feeling frightened, like someone who had been startled awake from a deep sleep or a confusing dream.

"It's nothing," He made an effort to look normal. "I was just thinking that Mike was lucky George wrote that letter. Jess handwriting looks like chicken scratchings."

"Now that's an exaggeration," Daisy said. "Your handwriting isn't much better."

"Yeah," Slim said, covering the strange concern he was feeling.

"Here, Slim." Mike held the letter out to him. "I'm supposed to give it to you so you can read it for yourself."

"Thanks, Mike. I'll give it back to you later - for your collection."

"Don't forget!"

"I won't."

"I have to go tell Charlie about the letter! Can I tell him what Jess wrote about him and the work he's doing?"

"Maybe you better let me do that."

"OK!"

"But you can tell him we'll be eating soon," Daisy said.

"I will!"

Mike grabbed his jacket and ran out of the house on his way to the barn.

"That boy lights up whenever a letter from Jess comes in," Daisy said. "To be honest, I do too."

"Yeah. Me too," Slim admitted.

Daisy didn't notice the underlying worry in Slim's voice. Smiling contentedly, turned to go back into the kitchen.

Slim stayed at the living room table, holding the envelope in one hand and the letter in the other, looking from one to the other. He reread the few lines of the letter, finding it to be disappointingly short of any real information. Shaking his head, he put both papers into his shirt pocket. He couldn't figure out what was so odd to him. The way the envelope had been addressed to him and the letter itself addressed to Mike was unsettling. And why had Jess written explicitly that Mike should give the letter to him to read for himself when the boy already knew to do that? He probably needed to study the letter and the envelope when he had time to find the answer, but right now he had to get outside and help Charlie finish cleaning out the stable.

He didn't think about the letter again until that night when Mike asked about it after dinner. Slim slapped his chest pocket, making the letter crackle beneath his hand. "I haven't had time to read it yet, Mike. I'll get it back to you tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure. But don't forget you got it up there in your pocket. Aunt Daisy might put it in the wash."

"Don't worry! Thank won't happen."

He didn't tell Mike why could make that guarantee. He wouldn't forget the letter because he put it in the same breast pocket where he kept the bullet - and he took care of that bullet like he took care of his own eyesight. During the last couple of days, the metal ball had seemed to have developed a painful life of its own, becoming an increasing source of discomfort. Now that he'd been reminded of the letter, the bullet seemed to glow, burning the paper next to it.

Mike was unaware of any of this. He turned to go upstairs, saying, "OK, then! Oh, Slim," he called back, "can I ride out with Charlie tomorrow to check on the water supply? Please? It's the last day before I have to go back to school."

"Alright, if it's OK with Charlie."

"Thanks! Goodnight, Slim! Goodnight, Aunt Daisy!" he said before storming to the top of the stairs and into his room.

"Goodnight," Slim said mechanically.

He headed for his office without another word. Daisy, who sat in front of the crackling fire, busy with handiwork, looked up in surprise but Slim didn't notice. He closed the office door and rifled through the rest of the day's mail lying on the top of his desk, but there was nothing important in it. Leaning back in his chair, he fished the letter out of his pocket and started reading it, going over it several times. His unease increased. With every reading, he understood the words between the lines more clearly.

Slim traced Jess' smeared signature at the bottom of the page with his finger. The ink ended in a black, ominous blob. " _Something's wrong here,"_ he thought. Jess didn't have the best of handwriting, but it was always distinct, bold and straightforward like the man himself.

Daisy interrupted him by tapping on the door and coming into the room before he answered her knock. "Slim," she said with unerring intuition, "is there something wrong?"

"It's nothing, Daisy."

"Oh, come on now," she said, standing resolutely beside the desk. "I know you better than that." She saw the letter thrown on top of the desk in front of him. "Is it…? Is something wrong with Jess? Did another letter come from the post office?"

"No."

"Well, there's something wrong!" she said, wringing her hands. "Don't you want to tell me about it?"

"The problem is, I don't know what to say."

"Maybe you don't know how to say it. Why don't you just try to talk about it?"

"I don't want to worry you. Jess wouldn't like it."

"It's something about his letter, isn't it.?"

He stared at her for a moment before he lowered his eyes and scrubbed at his forehead. "I've gone over it and over it. There's a clue in it but I don't what it is. Here!" He handed her the letter. "Read it for yourself."

"I know what it says."

"Read it anyway!" he said, wanting her opinion. "Tell me if you notice anything strange about it."

Daisy took the letter and sat down in the other chair beside the desk and read through the few lines. "What should I notice?" she asked when she finished it. "I don't know what you're upset about."

"Daisy, Jess didn't write that letter," Slim said with no doubt at all in his voice.

"I know that! George wrote it like he did all the others. Jess just dictated it to him."

"I mean he didn't even dictate it. Not his time."

"Why do you think that?"

"When Jess writes or dictates a letter to us, it sounds like him, like he would have said it. It's written like he talks."

"Then who wrote it? And why did Jess sign it if he didn't write it?"

"I think George wrote the letter himself. Jess just signed it."

"Jess wouldn't do that! Why should he?"

"I don't know. Maybe he couldn't even dictate it this time."

"Slim, don't...don't you think that carrying things a little too far?"

"Daisy, I've known Jess for a long time. I know how he talks. I know how he writes - and I know those aren't his words. I think he's trying to tell me something in a way that nobody but me will understand. I'm not sure what it is, but I've got a bad feeling about it."

"You think he's not doing well?"

"Yeah. Just look at his signature."

"Maybe his pen slipped."

"It looks like it slipped out of his hand," Slim said grimly. "If that happened, maybe…" He broke off. He didn't want to put his appalling foreboding into words.

"...maybe we're losing him."

"Yeah." He could barely get the word out. "Maybe...maybe he's already gone, and we just...don't know it yet. I've got to get to him!" he said abruptly.

"But Slim! He didn't want any of us to go visit him!"

"I know it, but I got a feeling this letter is a way of asking for help!" Slim was tense as a bow. "I know I can't help him but I...I have to do something! I should have done it before now!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I might have let him down again!"

"Oh, Slim! Please don't start that again!"

"I know what I got to do, Daisy."

"What is that?"

"Nothing tonight," he said, running his hand through his hair and looking miserable and puzzled at the same time. "I need to sleep on it. Don't say anything to Mike about this, either."

"I was about to say the same thing to you," Daisy said and handed the letter back to him.

Later, in her room Daisy wondered as lay in bed she wondered if Slim were right. At first, she thought his apprehension was coming from his deep feeling of guilt about Jess' injury, but now she heard a terrible voice in her own heart that confirmed Slim's worse fears. "Dear God," she pleaded, tears spilling out of the corners of her eyes, "let him be wrong. I've already lost one son. I don't want to have to go through that again."

Down the hall in his own room, Slim spent the night wrestling with his dark premonition. He finally fell into a restless sleep but woke long before dawn. As he shaved, his thoughts circled around and around the fear caused by Jess' letter. When he went downstairs, he read the letter again, but the fear remained. It seemed to swell up from between the lines. The bullet in his chest pocket started burning his skin more painfully than ever. Slim knew this couldn't be coincidence or his imagination. Something was wrong. No rational objection he could think of made any difference. The need to go to Jess grew stronger by the minute.

Just before noon, he found Daisy in the kitchen and told her, "I'm going to Colorado Springs. I'll take the stage to Cheyenne and catch the train south."

"Slim!"

"I've thought about it long enough. I hope I haven't waited too long this time."

"But you might be imaging things. You don't know anything for certain…"

"I'm going, Daisy," he said flatly.

"What am I supposed to tell Mike?"

"Tell him I had to go to Cheyenne on business."

"He won't believe that."

"Then you got to make him believe it." He pulled the letter out of his breast pocket and handed it to Daisy. "Give this back to him. I don't need it anymore. I finally figured it out. I just hope I didn't take too long."

Daisy stared at the letter in her hand and watched Slim as he ran up the steps two at a time to pack his kit and a fresh shirt. She didn't move until she saw him coming down again with his saddlebags over his shoulder.

"I hope you're mistaken," she said as she watched him strap on his gun belt.

The noon stage from Laramie was a few minutes late, but when it arrived, Slim called to the driver before the wheels stopped turning. "Hey, Mose! Do you have room for me?"

"Sure! Why?" he asked as he climbed down to open the door and help the passengers out.

"I've got to go to Cheyenne today," Slim said, unhitching the team.

"New Year's business? Or you got a sweetheart there?"

"I just need to get out of here for a couple of days."

As Slim started leading the horses toward the corral, Mose called out, "I'm goin' to get some coffee. We'll be leavin' in five minutes."

"I'll be ready."

"Oh, Slim!" Mose fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. "Luke Sandham gave this to me and told me to give it to you right away. I almost forgot. Must be important for him to make such a big deal out of it. Maybe it's from that girlfriend of yours."

"I got my hands full," Slim said. "Put it in my pocket."

While Mose went in for his coffee, Slim led the horses into the corral and released them. After he hitched up the new team, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. With a sense of foreboding realized it was an emergency telegram from Dr. Tyler.

His hand trembled as he opened it and read, "Sherman, Sherman Ranch, Laramie, Wyoming. Jess Harper seriously ill. Stop. Come immediately. Stop. Dr. J. Tyler, Colorado Springs, Colorado."

Slim jammed the telegram back into his pocket and barged through the front door. The two stagecoach passengers stared at him in surprise as he grabbed his saddlebags and yelled, "Come on, Mose. We got to go now!"

"Slim, what's wrong?" Daisy asked.

Mose said, "I can tell you, Miss Daisy. He got a telegram from his girlfriend!"

"A telegram?"

"An express telegram!" Mose said.

"Cut it out, Mose! Let's go!" Slim barked.

"A telegram from Jess?" Daisy asked, her face strained and sad.

"No," Slim said. "From Doctor Tyler."

"From… What did he write?"

"Here!" Slim gave her the telegram. "I was right Daisy."

"Oh, dear God," was all Daisy could manage to whisper.

"I might have waited too long again," Slim said, agonized. "Daisy, don't tell Mike anything about this."

"I'll try," she said weakly.

"You'll do it. I'll talk to him when I get back. I'll know what to say to him then."

Daisy nodded, wiping tears from cheeks with the back of her hand. Unable to utter another word, she watched Slim walk out of the door.

Mose followed him. "Will somebody tell me what's goin' on?" he grumbled as he helped the passengers climb aboard.

"Later!" Slim growled, throwing his saddlebags onto the top of the stage.

"That telegram had somethin' to do with Jess, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Then we better get going," he said. Mose tied down Slim's saddlebags, then cracked the whip over the horses. The stage surged forward.

Daisy waved a sad goodbye and Slim answered with a raised hand as the coach headed toward Cheyenne.

END OF CHAPTER 36


	37. Chapter 37

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 37

Slim reached Colorado Springs late the following day. It had been a hard trip. He'd been too worried about whether Jess was still alive to be able to get much sleep.

Now he strode down the street of a place that reminded him of Laramie ten or so years ago when the town had just been settled and nobody knew if it would live or die. Slim couldn't understand why Tyler had selected this ugly location for his sanitorium.

There were some larger buildings in the center of the place, mainly the offices of the mining companies in the area, along with a bank, a few shops, plenty of saloons, a sheriff's office with a jail made of rough stone carved from quarries, and a wooden church. On a hill with breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains, there were a few pretty houses where the mining bosses lived.

The only building that interested Slim was the livery stable near the center of town. He could get transportation there as well as directions to Tyler's sanitorium. He had no idea where to find it amidst this miserable collection of barracks, tents, rickety houses and tangled streets filled with mud and trash and vermin.

The town of Colorado Springs didn't make a good impression on Slim, but the owner of a local apartment house surprised him with his friendliness when he asked him how to find Doctor Tyler. The landlord pointed him toward a wagon that rolled down the street toward the post office.

"That's Olaf. He works with Doctor Tyler," the man said. "He'll be glad to help you."

Slim thanked him and headed over to the post office that Olaf had just entered. The rancher waited by a wagon filled with sacks and boxes of supplies until Olaf came back out. His hands full of mail and he was so absorbed in sorting it out that he looked up in surprise when Slim's shadow fell over him.

"Olaf?" Slim asked.

"That's me," the young man said, studying Slim to see if he knew him.

"I was told you could take me to Doctor Tyler."

Olaf frowned. "Take you to him?"

"Look, you don't know me. I'm Slim Sherman from Laramie."

"You're Mr. Sherman?" Olaf's face brightened and he held out his hand to be shaken. "I'm glad to meet you. Jess talks about you like you're his brother."

"How is he?"

"Not good, I'm afraid. Doctor Tyler will be glad you got here so fast. Climb in the wagon. I have to stop by and tell Ben the doctor can't come today."

"Who's Ben?"

"He's Doctor Tyler's right-hand man at the hospital here." Olaf geed up the horses. "There's no real doctor in town anymore since old Doc Sconery died last spring. Doctor Tyler wanted to run things from his sanitorium but he's still helping the folks down here until we get a replacement for the old doc. Ben's not a doctor but he's got a lot of experience."

"I'd like to meet him sometime."

Olaf stopped in front of a brick building near the edge of town and ran inside for a minute. He came back quickly and with the agility of youth, climbed back into the wagon and set off at a brisk pace through town. Just beyond the train station, he turned off onto a small road that ran through a dense evergreen forest.

Neither man spoke, but after a while Slim said, "Olaf? You got a last name?"

"Yeah, but everybody just calls me Olaf."

"Well, Olaf, I need to know about Jess. How sick is he?"

"I don't really know - but I think it's bad. I'm sorry - he's a real fighter."

"How long has he been...this...bad off?"

"For a while. But he must have gotten a lot worse yesterday morning. That's when Doctor Tyler asked me to send the telegram to you." He glanced at Slim who seemed to have forgotten his presence. "Jess must be a really good friend of yours."

"Yeah, he is. How much farther is it?"

"We're almost there."

Slim fell silent. It felt like hours before the two storied house with the large windows and the balconies appeared through the trees. Olaf drove up to the main entrance. Slim anxiously followed him up the stairs and through the entrance door. Doctor Tyler was standing in the hallway as if he'd been waiting for him. Introductions were quickly made.

"I'm glad you could come so quickly," Tyler said. "I only sent the telegram yesterday morning."

"It came on the noon stage, but I was already on my way here."

"Then George must have...but I thought Jess didn't want you to come."

"I've had a bad feeling about things for a while, but the last letter from Jess got me really worried."

"He asked you to come?"

"Not directly but he found a way to let me know something was wrong. I didn't understand at first, or I would have left then. How is he?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, but your friend is dying," Tyler said gravely. "I don't expect him to live another twelve hours. I'm glad you've come to be with him."

"Can...can I see him right now?" The bullet burned white hot in Slim's pocket.

"You need to be prepared. It will be hard for you to see him like this."

"I'm prepared. Let's go."

Tyler nodded. "Follow me."

Slim climbed the stairs behind the doctor, the horror of the situation tightening his chest. He was terrified at the thought of losing Jess. When they reached Jess' room, the doctor opened the door and stood back for Slim to enter. The room was filled with light from the big windows, but as Slim walked in, he felt like he was hit in the gut by a dark, oppressive shadow - it was the shadow of death. Rooted in place, guilt flooded through him, and he stared transfixed at the high screen that blocked off Jess' bed.

Doctor Tyler's voice came to him from a distance. "Please come over here first," he dimly heard the doctor say. "I attach particular importance to a high degree of hygiene when someone is as sick as your friend." When Slim just looked at him, unable to comprehend, Tyler gently explained, "We should wash our hands first."

"Sure…" Slim took another look at the screen before he followed Tyler into a large, comfortable bathroom. "Daisy thinks that's important, too," he said, inanely.

Doctor Tyler realized the big rancher was in a state of shock despite his initial hard-rock attitude. As calmly as if he were talking about the weather, the doctor said, "She's your housekeeper isn't she?"

Slim turned toward him, trying to focus on what Tyler said. "Yeah…" he said slowly. "She's more than that. She's one of the family."

"So I understand." Tyler handed the soap to him. "Jess talked about her. He said he was still alive mostly due to her good care."

Slim raised his brows and took a breath. The water on his hands helped him think more clearly. "Daisy is a trained nurse," he said. "Her husband was a doctor. A surgeon. They worked together in a hospital during the war."

"I see," Tyler said, handing him a towel. "If you're ready, please follow me,"

Slim trailed him into the large, bright room and walked around the tall screen. At first, he could see only a mound of pillows and blankets and a man leaning over the bed.

"George," Tyler said, "we have a visitor. This is Mr. Sherman, Jess' friend." Turning to Slim, the doctor said, "George has been with him all the time."

George looked up. "Mr. Sherman," he said, giving him a meager smile.

Slim nodded, unable to make a sound. When George moved, he could see a man's face on the pillow. It was ash-grey with sunken, hollow eye sockets, protruding cheekbones and a forehead covered with strands of sweat-damp tangled hair. Slim was horrified to know that this ghastly countenance was the face of his friend and partner.

"Oh, God," he whispered.

Tyler looked at him sympathetically. "I know it's terrible to see someone one who means so much to you in this condition."

"Are you...are you sure… Is he still alive?" The bullet in Slim's pocket was on fire.

"Certainly."

"How long - how long has he been like this?"

"He's been unconscious since yesterday morning. It's easier for him this way."

"That means he's been in a lot of pain," Slim snapped, glaring at the two men. "That's right isn't it?" The bullet was burning a hell-hole in his chest.

"Jess made George promise not to tell you anything," Tyler responded, his voice firm. "But I never made that promise so I can be open with you."

"Then do it!"

"Your friend… He's suffered a great deal. He's had terrible pain and difficulty breathing. He's been close to death several times. We almost lost him again last night."

"Again?"

"Yes. He had a systemic collapse yesterday morning that we reversed with a number of different medications. If he weren't such a naturally strong and healthy young man, we would have lost him much sooner."

"But he's not in pain now."

"No. He finally agreed to take pain numbing medication. But he has truly suffered a great deal."

"I know it. It's gone on for months now. He came here because he knew he was dying and he didn't want the rest of us to be hurt by it. He was torn between giving up and wanting to fight."

"He's fighting hard now," Tyler said. "He hasn't given up. I've never seen anything like it."

"I haven't given up on him either." Slim's jaws clenched, the muscles jumping hard. "If he doesn't have the strength to fight the devil, I'll do it for him."

"Mr. Sherman," the doctor said as gently as he could, "I know it's hard for a family to accept what can't be changed, but it's my duty to tell things like they are. I can't do anything else for him. He can't last much longer."

"That's what Doc Higgins said right after Jess was shot. He was wrong. Maybe you're wrong, too."

Doctor Tyler took a long breath and let it out. "I'm a medical doctor but I also know there are things in heaven and earth that science doesn't know about." He nodded in Jess' direction. "I don't know what is keeping this man alive, medical science and good care, or his own strong body and will. Over the years, I've learned to accept things as they are - but sometimes my belief in God and my reverence for his power overrides my scientific knowledge. That's why I sent that telegram to you and why I hoped you would come even though I knew Jess wanted you to stay away until it was over. I can't help him and you can't do anything either. But I know he needs you. And you know it too or you wouldn't be here."

"Yeah," Slim mumbled with a dry throat, "but he probably doesn't even know I'm here."

"Who can say? Perhaps he does."

Slim gave him a sharp look. "You said he was unconscious."

"He is. But in the state he's in - the near death state - strange phenomena sometimes occur, phenomena that seem to lie beyond the borders of this life as we know it. I certainly don't know everything there is to know. George can give him the best nursing care possible, but only you can give him the help needs now. You're not afraid to stay with him are you?"

Slim's infuriated glare was answer enough to the doctor's question. "You couldn't keep me anyway from him!" the rancher snapped.

"I understand," Tyler said, nodding. Assured that his patient was in the best hands possible, the doctor left the room.

George had silently continued to tend to Jess while Slim and Doctor Tyler were talking. After Tyler left, the assistant looked at Slim and said, "I think you ought to know that I was the one who wrote that last letter to you. Jess only signed it."

"Yeah, I already figured that out," Slim said, pulling a chair up to the other side of Jess' bed. Leaning in close, he swept the sweat-damp strands of dark hair off of his partner's forehead. His hand burned from the heat radiating from him. "How long has he had this fever?" he asked George.

"It started about a week ago. It wasn't too bad at first, but he lost consciousness two days ago. The last thing he said was about you.'

Slim looked up quickly, hurt that he hadn't been with Jess at the time. "What did he say?"

"Well, I didn't understand it but as best as I can remember he said, 'When Slim comes to get me, tell him I'm sorry and that he should bury that damn thing with me.' "

Slim's grip on Jess' hand tightened and his eyes filled with tears. "You know I can't do that," he said with a sob as if he were talking directly to Jess. "And there's...there's no reason for you to be sorry." His blonde head bent over Jess' hand and he wept, lost to the world around him.

George waited until Slim looked up, then he reached over to bathe Jess' face with a cold cloth. As he did, he met Slim's eyes, compassion in his own. "I guess you know what he meant," he said with the quiet kindness of a man experienced in the ways of suffering human beings. "You want to talk about it?"

Slim's hand went involuntarily to his chest pocket. He fingered the bullet that had been tormenting him for months with terrible memories of what had happened and with intense guilt for putting Jess in this horrifying state. Slim's long-held reserve collapsed. He pulled the bullet from his pocket and held it up.

"This...this is what he was talking about."

"What is that?" George asked although he suspected he already knew.

"It's the piece of lead…," Slim swallowed hard, agonized, and slipped the bullet back in his pocket, "...that's going to kill him," he finished, choking on the words.

"You kept the bullet? Why?"

"To remind me…"

"Of what?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"About what?"

"About how it happened."

"Not much. You seem more upset about it than he was."

"It's different with me."

"Well, if you want to talk, I'm willing to listen."

Slim shook his head, staring at Jess. "Look," he said, "what can I do to help? I want to do something for him - whatever I can."

"Sure," George said. "You can help me change the dressings and keep ice packs around him to bring the fever down."

For the rest of the afternoon, George and Slim worked together side by side. As they worked, they talked about Jess, his struggle to live and his struggle against the urge to use his gun to end his life on his own terms.

George was originally from the East Coast and had been with had been with Professor Tyler for a long time, even traveling to Europe with him. He had been trained to save human life. It was hard for him to understand the deadly violence of the West, especially when he thought about it being a part of the man on the bed who he'd come to like and respect. Slim understood, as George did not, that Jess' weapon was an inseparable part of his strong, sometimes complex and mystifying personality. He'd been trained since childhood to use his gun to protect life and prevent suffering, even his own. Both he and Slim had always known the possible consequences of the way they lived. Accepting the reality of those consequences was the harder part.

In the evening, Doctor Tyler came to relieve his assistant. Slim on the other hand had no intention of resting despite the exhaustion of several sleepless nights and the long journey to Colorado Springs. He camped out by the bed, helping Geoge replace ice packs and wash the sweat and fluid off of Jess' face after a coughing attack. When there was nothing else to be done, he mutely held Jess' cold hand and silently prayed that his partner would be aware that he was with him, that his suffering would end, that God would deliver him from death.

About midnight, Doctor Tyler took Jess' temperature and then held the thermometer up to the lamp light to read it.

"The fever will kill him, won't it?" Slim said.

"The worst part is that I can't do anything about it," Tyler said. "When you're a doctor, it's a terrible thing to have to stand by and watch, knowing there's nothing you can do."

"Doctors aren't the only ones that feel that way."

Tyler looked at him and nodded, then took the stethoscope and listened carefully to his patient's heart and lungs. His face tightened.

"What's wrong?" Slim asked, his hand clamping down on Jess' as if he were going to physically pull him away from danger.

Tyler straightened up and reached for a syringe, quickly preparing an injection. "His heartbeat is erratic. I hope I can pull him out of it again." He slipped the needle into a vein and pushed the fluid in. When Slim grimaced, the doctor said, "It's not hurting him. There are various medications - cocaine mixtures, quinine and the like - that can stimulate the heart."

Gripping Jess' hand, Slim held his breath as Tyler bent over Jess again with the stethoscope. He breathed again when the doctor's expression relaxed.

"It's more regular now," Tyler said letting out a deep breath of his own.

Jess' condition remained relatively stable for the rest of the night and the next day brought little change. The fever fell a few degrees only to rise again, creating a zigzag pattern on the chart at the bottom of his bed.

The twelve hours of life allotted to him by Doctor Tyler the previous day stretched out again and again as Jess' poor, exhausted body stubbornly fought death - but death kept coming back. When Jess fought death the first time in the days after he'd been shot, he'd relied on Slim to hold him at bay. Even though death didn't seem to be intimidated this time, maybe, just maybe the rancher's unyielding presence could stop him again.

Half asleep, with his long frame cramped into a wooden bedside chair, Slim stayed by Jess, holding his partner's right hand with both of his own. He rubbed Jess' fingers as if he could will his own vitality into the sick body of his friend. One part of him knew he couldn't help him. But there was another part, a mysterious voice that told him he would lose Jess on the spot if he let go of his hand, even for a few seconds. Maybe it was this connection that frightened death. At least this what Slim believed. He held on.

That long terrible night reminded Slim of all the dark nights that had gone before, but this time, Doctor Tyler stood guard with him, available if his patient's condition worsened. Toward morning, Tyler leaned back, exhausted in his chair by the bed. Jess had gone through several coughing attacks during the night, spitting up so much bloody mucus the doctor himself wondered where so much fluid came from. Now, as the sky began to lighten, Jess seemed to be resting after the storm.

After listening to Jess' heartbeat and breathing one more time, Tyler took his stethoscope out of his ears. He had never seen anyone endure so long. One thing was clear - this man wanted to live no matter what he'd thought or said before. He would fight to the last breath. He would fight the devil himself. Tyler admired Slim Sherman just as much. Hour after hour, he stayed by his friend, holding his hand, steadily hoping, quietly praying for Jess' life.

Closing his eyes, the doctor said a prayer himself for these two men who were so obviously linked by deep friendship. For himself, he wanted to ask God to stop the terrible torture he was watching. More and more he was feeling like a tool of the devil when he used his medical knowledge to fight against the inevitable. Despite the oath he had sworn as a physician, he wanted this dreadful situation to end, to let go and leave the outcome to God. He was ready to turn the decision over to him. He had no other choice anyway.

But not Slim Sherman. The longer Jess struggled with death, the less Slim was willing to surrender. If he had ever wanted God to end this inhuman suffering and let Jess go, he no longer had any desire to do that. He couldn't and wouldn't accept that there was no hope of saving him. Doctor Tyler might be right and he might have to go through the terrible experience of losing Jess, but as long as Jess was fighting for his life, he would fight with him. Jess had to make it! And maybe God, if there was a God, would grant a miracle. That's what Slim was praying for, even though a part of him didn't expect much from God because he'd never thought very much about him before. He knew that miracles occurred in sacred stories and ancient myths but not in real life. Nevertheless, a deep-rooted instinct caused him to cling to hope in the face of hopelessness itself. He prayed for a miracle.

Quietly, in the early hours of that cold January morning, against all odds, a miracle did begin to happen, a miracle neither Slim himself nor Tyler nor anyone else had expected. Perhaps it wasn't really a miracle. Perhaps it was the result of a combination of things - exemplary medical care, the extraordinary vitality and endurance of a strong young man, the profound affection and trust between two friends, and the love of an elderly woman and a ten-year-old boy miles away. It really didn't matter. It happened. It happened, unnoticed at first, as Slim clung to Jess's hand with both of his own, closed his eyes, bowed his head and directed another fervent prayer to the God he'd nearly forgotten. He didn't see how Jess blinked his eyes several times, opening them for a fraction of a second as if he were responding to the call of a distant voice.

Jess himself wasn't aware of his return to consciousness. He felt engulfed in a dense, invisible gel. He couldn't move. It was only the diabolical pain in his chest that jerked him out of the thick grey muck of sickness, fever and death. Stabbed partly awake, all he could do was struggle to open his eyes. Finally, he could see a crack of dim light. Through the dense fog that surrounded him, he saw a shadow looming over him. In his fevered mind, he saw the dark figure as the devil that had haunted him for all these months. It was the demon with the black cloak that had come to take him to hell. Jess accepted it without resistance. Hell was the only place for someone who had led the kind of life he had. He was too tired, his body too drained, to fight anymore.

As he waited for the evil shadow to make its move, the old familiar pain in his chest dragged him relentlessly back to reality, but he still couldn't move. Had they already laid him out to be buried? Couldn't they see he was still alive? Somehow he had to let them know he was still there. He tried to say something, but no matter how hard he tried, his mouth wouldn't move. Gradually, he became aware that his hand was surrounded by something warm, something that was part of the shadow. He tried to move his fingers, but the tendons and muscles wouldn't respond. They lay within that warmth, paralyzed.

As he concentrated on regaining his ability to move, his mind grew clearer even though dim shapes rose and fell in the mist around him like phantoms. Suddenly, he knew. He couldn't see him but he could feel him, his closeness, his presence. The shadow holding his hand was Slim Sherman. Profound relief and comfort flooded through him, letting him float back to the edge of unconsciousness again, but he knew he had to attract Slim's attention. Summoning all his will, he was able to move his fingers - just a little - but enough for Slim to notice them twitching against the palm of his hand.

Slim's head went up. Immersed in prayer, he didn't know what was going on. Maybe the jerks in Jess' hand were the last spasms of a dying man. But then he looked at Jess and saw Jess looking back at him., blinking his eyes as if trying to clear his vision. His lips were trembling in an effort to speak.

"Jess!" Slim shouted. "Jess!" His grip on Jess' hand tightened, and he leaned over him, caressing his partner's sweat-drenched forehead. "Hey, partner!" he said with a sob. "You're here! I see you! You're going to be OK! I see you!" With tears streaming down his cheeks and his face close to Jess', Slim locked his eyes on Jess' eyes, willing him back to life.

Unable to speak, Jess heard the familiar voice and understood what it was saying to him. He knew the shadowy figure was Slim. He could make out the shape of his face and see the shine of tears on his cheeks. He tried to say Slim's name, but he couldn't get the word past his frozen lips.

Slim could tell how hard Jess was trying to say something to him. He started talking to him instead, his voice as gentle as if he were talking to a small child. He saw the fear in his partner's eyes increase as Jess' awareness of pain increased, and he held onto him as his restlessness grew.

"You're OK, partner," he said. "Just lie still. I'm right here with you, and I'm going to make sure you're OK. You're going to make it now. You hear me? You're going to make it. I'm going to make sure of that."

Struggling for consciousness and breath, Jess started to cough, convulsing and gagging and expelling massive amounts of blood and mucus, emptying his lungs as the purulent ulcer in them burst. Slim and Tyler moved close to him to support him, keeping his airway free so he wouldn't choke as the infectious liquid poured out of his mouth. When the spasm passed, Slim and the doctor propped him up on clean pillows and covered him with fresh sheets but even as Jess grew quieter, he locked onto Slim's eyes. Slim once more gripped Jess' hand with both of his own, letting go only to wipe away the fluid that still drained out of his partner's nose and mouth.

Wanting to stay with Slim, to talk to him, to thank him, Jess struggled against the leaden heaviness that pinned his whole body to the bed beneath him. The heaviness finally forced his eyelids shut. Slim's face blurred before him and he fell asleep.

"Jess?" Slim cried out, fearing the worst. "Jess!" he repeated frantically, looking at Doctor Tyler who had his stethoscope on Jess' chest. "Do something!" he demanded, jumping up to tower over the physician.

Tyler straightened up. "Calm down, Mr. Sherman. It's alright. Your friend has simply fallen asleep."

"He's...he's not unconscious again?"

"No. Merely exhausted. His heart is steady - and his lungs sound clear."

Slim frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. I'm sure. I don't know how he has managed to stay alive. Perhaps that was God's decision."

"You mean.." Slim stared fiercely at him, afraid of being fooled, "...he's going to live?"

The doctor's shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath. "I can't guarantee anything. But the chances are better than they were half an hour ago. He's not any worse - but we still might be disappointed in our hopes. We'll just have to wait and see."

"He's alive. That's good enough for now," Slim said and sat back down in the chair beside the bed. Taking Jess' hand again, he resumed his post, his fatigue forgotten, his determination to stay by his friend strengthened by the struggle of the last few minutes.

"Sherman…" Doctor Tyler came around the bed to stand beside Slim and touched his shoulder. "You need to rest. Otherwise, I'm going to have another patient."

Slim frowned and his grip on Jess' hand tightened. "I'll be here as long as he needs me," he said. "I told him I'd stay with him and that's what I'm going to do."

"I'm sure you are," the doctor sighed and dropped his hand from Slim's shoulder. "I even suspect that's why Jess regained consciousness. I don't have any other way to explain it."

Two hours later when George came to relieve Tyler, fatigue had finally overpowered Slim. Hunched in the chair with his eyes were tightly shut, his body was clamped into its uncomfortable position. He was asleep, but his hands were still locked on Jess' hand.

"That's the first time I've seen him sleep since he got here," George commented, nodding at the rancher, then he looked at Jess. "How's he doing?" he asked Tyler, dreading to hear the answer.

"Well, it's hard to believe, and I can't explain it, but he regained consciousness about two hours ago. He recognized Sherman, then started coughing. He expelled a tremendous amount of infected fluid. Now, his fever seems to have broken, and his heart is regular. And...," the doctor cocked his head and gave George a wry look before he said, "...he's gone to sleep."

"He's asleep?"

"That's what it looks like."

"That's hard to believe."

"I know. I'm still worried about his breathing. If the inflammation isn't stopped, it will spread to his right lung. I don't know if he really has reached the crisis and gotten past it. I just hope the fever doesn't take hold again. Make sure you check it frequently."

"I will. And I'll keep him cooled down."

"Watch his breathing. Make sure the mucus and the drainage don't clog his airway."

George nodded. "He's still in a lot of trouble," he said sadly.

"Yes, but in the last two hours he hasn't gotten worse, and he seems more stable. His life is still in danger, but his prospects for the future aren't as hopeless as they were." Tyler ran his hand over his face. "I'm going to lie down."

"You look pretty tired."

"I am. But call me if there's anything you're not sure about. We don't want to miss anything."

"Don't worry. I'll take good care of him."

"Of course, George. I know that." Smiling wearily, he patted his assistant's back. He'd been able to rely on this man for many years. He knew that wasn't about to change now.

END OF CHAPTER 37


	38. Chapter 38

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 38

It took days before Jess' condition finally stabilized. The fever continued to rise and fall, but it never went as high as it had been before. Doctor Tyler ascertained that the inflammation had not spread to the other lung and wasn't like to do so. He didn't know how much internal damage had been done and whether or not Jess would be permanently impaired, but he did know that his patient's heart seemed to be unaffected. When he put his stethoscope to Jess' chest, he heard the strong, steady throb of it in his ears.

One morning, he told Slim that Jess was out of danger. Slim immediately sent a telegram to Laramie letting Daisy and Mike know and telling them he would be staying in Colorado Springs until he was sure Jess was really getting better.

Jess slept most of the time, unable to speak even when he woke for a few moments. Slim stayed by his partner's side, snatching moments of sleep on a cot that had been brought into the room and helping George and the doctor keep his partner's throat and mouth clear of the fluid that still drained from his lungs.

Late one afternoon, Slim stood at the big window that stretched from floor to ceiling and stared out at the winter landscape. He'd lost track of time and all awareness of the outside world during the fight for Jess' life, but now he took a moment to notice the spectacular scenery visible from Jess' room. Fresh snow had fallen during the night and covered the trees and distant mountains with a white mantle that glittered like a diamond in the clear air and bright winter sunlight.

George quietly came to stand beside him. As they looked down on the terrace below, George told Slim about teaching Jess to play chess. "We didn't finish our last game," he said, looking down at the snow covered game pieces below. "I hope we'll soon be able to pick up where we left off."

Slim looked over his shoulder toward the bed where Jess lay sleeping and smiled tiredly. "Yeah, maybe that'll actually happen soon."

"I think it will," George said. "It'll take him a while to get his strength back though, and he never liked asking for help."

"You're right. It's not easy for him to depend on anybody. He's used to doing things for himself."

A sudden cough made them both spin around and run back to help the sick man. The attack didn't last long, but more infected mucus flooded out of his mouth, accompanied as always by sharp pain in his chest.

George got out his stethoscope and thermometer and after a few minutes was able to reassure Slim. "Don't worry. He's not any worse than he was. The more he coughs up, the faster his lungs will heal. And his fever has fallen some. We're definitely going to be able to finish that game of chess pretty soon."

"Are you sure of that?"

"I am. It may take a while, but he'll get there."

Slim wanted to believe him, but Jess still looked so ill, especially after an attack like he'd just had. The rancher wondered if he sent that telegram to Daisy too soon. His weak glimmer of hope was fading in the face of his partner's constant struggle for breath and the recurrent coughing spells, but as he leaned over Jess once more to wipe off his face, Jess' eyes opened, and he looked at him, recognizing who he was. He reached for Slim's hand.

"Hey, partner," he whispered. He struggled to get the words out, but they were very clear.

Slim's face was transformed with joy. He grabbed Jess' hand and said the first thing that came to his mind. "Welcome back to the land of living, partner!" he shouted.

Jess' hand tightened on Slim's for a moment. "Thanks for being here," he said hoarsely. He closed his eyes again but held onto Slim's hand.

George leaned over to check his patient's vital functions. Reassured, he straightened up, satisfied with what he'd heard. "I'll leave you two alone for a while," he said. "But I'll be close by if you need me." Reaching across the bed, he touched Slim's shoulder to get his attention. "Don't let him talk too long."

Slim nodded without taking his eyes off Jess. "I'm here, Jess," he told his partner. "I came as fast as I could, but I was afraid I was going to be…"

"...too late?" Jess softly finished the sentence and cracked his eyes a little to look at Slim. "Did Tyler...tell you to...come?"

"Yeah. He sent a telegram. But I was already on my way."

"Then...you got the...letter."

"Yeah. I'd been feeling like something was wrong, and that letter let me know it for sure."

"I didn't write it. George...did."

"I figured that out, but it took me a while. I wish you'd let me know sooner."

"I just wanted you to know...so...you could…"

"I know. Come and get you." Slim smiled at him. "I came to see you instead."

Jess tried to smile back, but on his sunken, hollow-cheeked face it looked more like a grimace. Suddenly he clenched Slims hand and started coughing again, spitting up rusty blood and mucus that Slim patiently wiped away before giving him a drink of water.

"Thanks," Jess said after he'd taken a few sips, his voice hoarse and choked with the pain stabbing through his shoulder. He grabbed the blanket and squeezed it to keep from pushing it into his chest to numb the agony.

"It's hurting you again," Slim said, sounding angry.

"Yeah," Jess croaked but then relaxed as the spasm passed. "I think that old pal of mine has given me a pretty rough ride."

"What pal?"

"You know…," Jess said weakly, closing his eyes, "...the one with the black coat. I...I...thought you might of seen him this time."

Slim had seen him. He'd met him when he stood at the door of Jess' room for the first time, and he'd seen him on Jess' face, but he wasn't going to tell Jess that. Instead, with a smile that lit up his face and with his voice full of warmth and big brother authority, he said, "If I had seen him, I'd have walloped him good. He wouldn't have stood a chance with me around."

Jess' mouth twitched in a tiny smile. "Yeah… I knew that… That's probably why...I...wrote that letter." He opened his eyes again to look at his partner. "I didn't know much for a long time...but I knew...I wasn't alone anymore."

"George and Doctor Tyler were here all the time before I came."

"That ain't...what I mean…"

Slim took his hand again and held it. "You know, Doctor Tyler told me there some things he can't explain. He said that you still being alive was one of them." Jess closed his eyes, listening to Slim's familiar voice. "When I got here, Tyler thought you were dying - and when I saw you, I almost believed him. But then...well, you're going to laugh at me...but I started praying. I held your hand, and I prayed for a miracle. And when you opened your eyes a couple of days ago, I shed some tears over you out of pure happiness."

Jess' eyes cracked opened again. They were filled with a glimmer of his old warmth and with some tears of his own. "Thanks, partner," he whispered.

Their gaze held for a long, quiet moment. Slim's hand tightened on Jess'. "You know what, partner?" he said with a teasing smile. "I'm the one who ought to be thanking you. If you hadn't made it, I'd be the one who would have had to tell Daisy and Mike."

Jess seemed to perk up. "How're they doin'?"

"They miss you. Especially Mike."

"I'm glad they can't see me like this. It would be too much for 'em."

"Well, it would for Mike - so the best thing you can do is get well and come home."

"How's Charlie workin' out?"

"He's a good man. A hard worker. Reliable. Even Mike's made his peace with him now. He was jealous of him at first."

"Jealous? How come?"

"I asked Charlie to eat with us in the house. Mike didn't like it. He thought Charlie was going to take your place. But we got that straightened out. They're good friends now. And we're all ready for you to come home." Slim stopped talking, aware that Jess was getting restless again and was showing signs of breathless and pain. "Are you doing OK?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jess lied then betrayed himself with a barking cough. Slim jumped to help him through the attack. When it was over, he wiped off his partner's sweat-glossed face with a damp, cool cloth. Jess was barely able to keep his eyes opened. "You're...you're goin' to stay around for a while?" he asked weakly.

"Sure, I am!" Slim took his hand again. "I telegraphed Daisy that I'd stay here as long as you needed me."

"Thanks…" Jess was slipping back into exhausted sleep. "That...guy with the...black cloak… He's still...hangin' around. You're the...only...one...who can...keep him...away."

"Don't worry, Jess," Slim said with absolute certainty, his face tight with determination. "I won't let him get you."

For the next week and a half, Jess spent most of his time in a heavy sleep. When he did wake up, he looked around anxiously for Slim, relaxing only when he spotted him or felt him holding his hand. Then he knew his partner was with him and would keep death from sneaking up on him. He was the only one who could.

At last, the coughing attacks grew further and further apart and less severe. The fever rose and fell and rose again and finally returned to normal and stayed there. Even the pain in his chest lessened, and the color began to come back into his cheeks. He was getting better.

After a few days of slow, stable improvement, he surprised Slim by telling his partner to go back home. There was no clearer proof that Jess was on the road to recovery - he felt like he could carry on the struggle alone.

"Are you sure you'll be OK without me?" Slim asked him skeptically.

"I'm goin' to be fine. Winter is settin' in and you might get trapped here. Daisy and Mike might need you. Besides, you been here almost three weeks from what Tyler said."

"You don't need to worry about Daisy and Mike. Charlie can handle things at the ranch."

"I'd feel better if you were with 'em."

"Yeah…, but I'm not sure about you. I know you're doing better but…"

"I hope you're not thinkin' about stayin' here unit I can go home with you."

"I just want to make sure you're really out of the woods…"

Jess smiled a little. "Don't worry, Slim. I think we got rid of that guy with the black cloak." He met Slim's eyes. "Thanks, partner," he said. "I'd never of made it without you."

"I didn't do anything for you that you wouldn't have done for me," Slim said firmly.

Jess cocked his head, still looking at Slim and smiled again, his eyes full of warmth. "I just didn't want you to think I was tryin' to get rid of you," he teased.

Slim studied his partner, thinking about the best thing to do. Then his brows lifted and he pointed a long, bossy finger at Jess. "Alright!," he said. "But you better get well in time to be at that round-up in May or I'll come back up here and haul you there myself!"

Jess grinned. "You got it, partner."

Slim took a long look at him, still smiling but there was a serious undertone in his voice. "You know what?" he said. "This is the first time I know for sure you're going to be alright. I can see it. But…," the boss was back, "you got to be careful!"

"I'll do everything the doc tells me to - I promise. I don't want you to be makin' another trip just to sit around holdin' hands with me."

They both grinned at each other, enjoying the old back and forth banter until Jess' gaze shifted to the pocket on Slim's shirt. "Don't you think it's about time for you to throw that thing away?"

Slim sucked in his cheeks as his mouth tightened. "Not yet," he said stubbornly. "We'll talk about it when you get home."

Two days later, Slim was on the train to Cheyenne, knowing he'd left Jess in the best of hands. There was still no guarantee of his partner's full recovery, but there was hope. The care at the sanatorium had given him that.

Slim fingered the bullet in his pocket. It no longer felt like molten lead but as long as Jess was still fighting his injuries, he couldn't throw it away. Maybe letting go of guilt was a little like Jess' struggle to get well - a long, slow journey with terrible setbacks and a daily battle for small improvements that came one hard step at a time.

Slim knew Jess was right. He needed to throw the bullet away. The guilt he was carrying would eventually damage their friendship. He knew he had to get over it just as his partner had gotten over his injuries.

"Don't worry, Jess," the rancher said softly as he stared out of the window at the snow covered landscape. "We'll make it together." He fished the bullet out of his pocket and held it like a nugget of gold as he gently rolled between his fingers. "I can't do it alone either."

END OF CHAPTER 38


	39. Chapter 39

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 39

It seemed like Slim might have left prematurely because the next night Jess had another coughing attack. Only Doctor Tyler's medical skill and the strength Jess had gained in previous days got him through it. It felt like the last desperate assault of the man with the black cloak - but death had lost. Jess' recovery was set back for a couple of days but then his condition started steadily improving.

Even so, it was nearly three weeks before Tyler let him get out of bed to take a few steps around the room or allowed him to sit in the sunlight of one of the tall windows. For his part, George massaged Jess' wasted muscles and made sure he was tempted several times each day with small meals of Liz's broths and stews and delicate desserts. Food began to taste good to Jess again, his injuries continued to heal, and his strength grew.

After two more weeks, Doctor Tyler removed the bandage from his left shoulder. At first, Jess wore a sling that supported his arm because his muscles were weak and his fractured rib still painful but George worked with him every day. In the beginning, the assistant moved Jess' arm himself, raising and lowering it, gently sliding it back and forth and around in small circles. Later, he coached him as Jess did the exercises himself. Gradually, the muscles and tendons stretched and strengthened. The numbness, then the pain, receded and the feeling in Jess' fingers returned.

What lingered was a stubborn cough that could still degenerate into prolonged attacks, aggravating the pain from the shattered rib. Through it all, George was by side Jess' side, taking care of him and encouraging him like Slim had done.

Eventually, Jess felt well enough to play chess again. One evening, just after he'd managed to trap George's king, he looked up at the assistant and said, "You know what, George? This game is kind of like my life has been lately.

George thought it over. "I can see that. You've been playing with old man death these last three months."

"You think I got him beat?"

"You're getting there."

Leaning back in his chair, Jess lifted his left hand and began opening and closing his fist. He seemed fascinated by it.

"Is your hand giving you trouble?" George asked.

"Nah. My shoulder ain't even hurtin'." He rolled it around. "I like havin' all my body parts workin' again. Only that broke rib still hurts me some," he said, rubbing his chest.

"That'll hold you back until the inflammation goes away. It'll take another couple of weeks to heal completely."

"A couple of weeks," Jess mused. "You know, that don't seem so long anymore. I used to feel guilty lyin' around doin' nothing, but I'm kind of gettin' used to it."

"You still need a lot of rest to get completely well. You could have a total set back if you did too much too soon."

"I'm aimin' to take it slow - and not just because I told Slim I would. I might of learned somethin' from all this. I'm startin' to set a higher value on my life. It's a miracle I'm alive at all."

"I think you're alive because you wanted to live. You just refused to die. Sometimes people can do things we can't explain. Personally, I don't care if we can or not. When something good happens, like it did to you, I say we ought to just be happy about it without trying too hard to figure it out. Enjoy it! You deserve it!"

"You think so?"

"Don't you?"

"Sometimes I'm not so sure."

"You think you deserve something else?"

"Maybe 'deserve' ain't the right word. It's more like it's what I expected. I mean...that I'd die like that - hit by a bullet."

"Why?"

Jess shrugged and looked down. "I don't know… Maybe it's because I've lived a hard life, done some hard things. It was pretty much all I knew before I met Slim."

"Well, you're still among the living. I don't know you like Slim does, but it seems to me you've gotten another chance at life. You can make your future whatever you want it to be."

"Maybe. But this is still raw country. Sometimes things happen you can't back down from."

"Like that?" He nodded toward Jess' left shoulder.

"No. I didn't have a chance to back down that day. I was talking about what happened in Laramie just before I came here."

"You want to talk about it?"

"Nah, It's too peaceful around here tonight."

"Well, if you ever do, I'm a good listener."

"Thanks, George." He leaned back in the chair and looked at the assistant with a wry smile. "I guess I'm lucky to be here talkin' to you. When I got here, I thought I was dyin'."

"Yeah," George said slowly. "I did too. I even thought you wanted to until you got the fever. Then you fought so hard I knew you wanted to live. But…, to tell the truth, I don't think you would have made it without Slim. He did something for you medical care couldn't do."

Jess glanced at him quickly and then looked down and nodded. "You're right. Nobody but him could stand up to that guy in the black cloak for me."

"He held onto your hand like he was pulling you out of the shadow of death all by himself - and I think he did."

"I do too." Jess took a deep breath. It felt good to be able to breathe without pain immediately clamping down on him. "He did it before - when I first got shot. That's why I stayed alive long enough to get here."

George fiddled with a chess piece for a moment, then said, "Look, Jess. I don't know if you want to talk about it...but...when I saw you the dresser...starring at your gun...were you...were you really going to do it?"

"Is that still botherin' you?"

George nodded. He needed to know.

"If I'd wanted to do it," Jess answered calmly, "I would have, but...I'm not the only one I got to think about now. I got folks countin' on me. I had to keep on hopin'..." He met George's questioning look and quickly added, "I know…sometimes I didn't feel it - or act like it." He paused, ducked his head and then said softly, "I know what despair feels like now. I never knew that before. But… I couldn't do that to my family. I couldn't take away their hope by playin' God and takin' my own life. I couldn't let 'em down like that."

"That's the way Slim saw it, too."

"You talked to him about it?"

George looked embarrassed. "I...I thought you were dying. I needed to...tell him."

Jess flashed a smile at him. "Hey, don't get any grey hairs worryin' about it. Slim knew what I was thinkin'."

"Not many men have a friend like that. You don't talk a lot to each other, but you seem to understand each other anyway."

Jess laughed. "Most of the time. But you should talk to Daisy. She's seen another side of things."

"You get into fights?" George seemed surprised.

"Yeah...but...we always work it out, one way or another."

"Well, you better wait until you're stronger before you take on Slim again!" Then in a serious tone, he added, "You know that you're getting stronger every day - your muscles, your ability to control your movements, your endurance. My job now is to make sure you don't overdo it."

"I know it, but I got more patience now because I know I'll be goin' home again, no matter what - and I'm goin' to make nothing keeps that from happenin'." His face seemed to light up with quiet, deep happiness.

George studied him, fascinated by him, mystified by his contradictions, the ever present contrast between a sweet gentleness on one hand and an unflinching hard resolve on the other. He'd never met anyone with his straightforwardness and intense concern for the welfare of the people he cared about.

Jess noticed his expression. "What're you thinkin' about?" he said with the flicker of a smile. "You're lookin' at me like I'm a ghost or somethin."

"I was thinking about what an unusual person you are. You have a strong personality that affects the people around you." He saw Jess' questioning look. "Don't get me wrong! I like you! A lot! You've been good for me. I've learned a lot from you."

"Are you sure about that, George?" Jess asked, a little mystified himself by what George said.

"Well, I'm glad I've gotten to know you and I think a lot of you. The people of Laramie seem to agree with me. They paid a lot of money for you to come here. You're a popular man with them."

Jess laughed again. "There're a lot of people I'm not so popular with, too. Some that would rather see me dead than alive."

"Not in Laramie."

"Probably not. But it's a big country."

"And you've been around a lot of it."

"Yeah. Until I met Slim. And being responsible for Mike has settled me down a lot. I'm not the kid I was when I went on the drift."

"You're not that old either. Maybe just more mature."

"Maybe. Maybe I just found what I was lookin' for. And now I'm only lookin' for one thing - to get well and go home."

"You'll get there - if you take care of yourself."

"You don't have to worry about that." Jess pushed himself up from his chair, causing George to look up in surprise. "Where're you going?"

"I got somethin' I want to do."

"What?' George said, immediately worried about him. "Are you feeling OK?"

"I feel fine - and that's the truth. I want to write to Mike before I go to bed."

"You can dictate it to me. I'll go get a pen and some paper."

"Nope. I'm goin' to write it myself this time." He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers. "Now that I have two good hands again, I can hold the paper down myself."

A smile lit George's broad face. "That'll make him happy."

"He's the only one who can read my handwritin'. At least that what Slim says," Jess grinned. "He says he can only make out every other word."

"Your handwriting's not that bad."

"How do you know?"

"I saw your signature."

"You ought to be glad that's all you had to read. But come to think about it," Jess said, looking down at his hand, "maybe I ought to practice some first."

George laughed. "Just remember not to overdo it," he warned. He was having a hard time letting Jess get out of his sight, but it was good to see him relaxed and cheerful. He would miss this man when he went back to Wyoming.

Jess smiled at him. "You don't need to worry so much about me anymore. I listen to you more than you think I do. See you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Jess! And make sure the window is closed!" he called out as Jess headed for the door.

"Sure! I'll be fine!"

George nodded, but he would still check on him later. Jess was his patient and his responsibility. He wouldn't allow anything to cause a setback now.

The next day a powerful snowstorm blew down from the northeast and lasted for three days, making it easy for Jess to stay inside. Nobody at the sanatorium stuck their noses out of the house while it lasted.

For the rest of the winter, Jess mostly stayed in the shelter of the sanatorium. He worked on exercises that strengthened his muscles and increased his stamina, and during hours of required rest, he would often immerse himself in one of the books in Doctor Tyler's library. At last, he had time to make up for all the reading he'd missed earlier in his life. In the evenings, he and George could usually be found in the library, brooding over a chess game or talking in front of the fire, but one of his favorite solitary activities was braiding a bridle from horse hair that Olaf brought to him from the barn and the livery stable in town. It was a good way to regain dexterity and strength in his fingers - and, it was a beautifully crafted present he could take home to Mike.

By mid-April, the weather was better. The sun broke through the clouds more often, and the air grew steadily warmer. Spring could not be stopped. Except for the higher mountain peaks, the snow melted and the morning sun burned away anything that had frozen over during the night.

For Jess, spring came at just the right time. He was strong enough to leave the house. His first few trips outside didn't take him far, only to the terrace and back, but then he and George extended their walks to the gardens, and as the weather warmed and the ground thawed, to the little lake in the forest. Jess' strength and endurance seemed to keep pace with the new life awakening all around him.

One night Doctor Tyler shared the news that a new doctor would soon be arriving in Colorado Springs. He would be responsible for the patients in the infirmary that the mining companies had set up in town, making it possible for Tyler to go there only when there was an emergency. The following week, the first guests of the spring season arrived at the sanatorium, two ladies who were suffering only from minor aches and pains. They seemed to be the type of patients who would require a lot of unnecessary attention from the entire staff, including Doctor Tyler.

"There goes the peace and quiet around here," George complained while he was walking in the garden after dinner with Jess.

The evening air was cold but not icy. Jess could take a deep breath without experiencing any pain. Even his injured rib wasn't causing him any trouble when he breathed normally. It only hurt when he made a sudden, jerky movement or when he exercised too hard. George always stopped him before he did any damage but tonight Jess wasn't even out of breath and had no pain at all. It seemed as if he had been reborn into a new life.

"George," he said breaking the silence, "do you think I'm going to get well...I mean really well?"

"Don't you?"

"Yeah… "His voice was serious but not sad, "...but sometimes I feel like I dreamed the whole thing. Then, I see this scar," he tapped his chest, "and I know it's real. And...well, I wonder if it's done some damage that I don't know about that'll show up later. Sometimes even a doctor wouldn't know about it until it's too late."

"I wouldn't worry about it," George said. "You're going to have to be careful for a long time and leave the heavier work to someone else but still a young man, Jess! Your heart is healthy. The tissues around the wound have healed and inflammation is almost gone. That rib is going to keep on growing back together. The only thing you'll have left is that scar. There's no reason for you to create problems that don't exist. You can look forward to the future now."

"I ain't worryin' so much for myself. I don't want to live to be a hundred years old. I just want to stay around until Mike grows up and can take care of himself."

"Then you're going to have to live pretty old."

"Nah… It won't be long before Mike'll be a grown man and on his own."

"Yeah, sure, but then he'll bring home a girl - and then a bride - and there'll be children - grandchildren. And they'll always be coming to you for help with something. Or for encouragement. Mike will be able to take of himself, but that doesn't mean he won't need you."

Jess walked in silence for a moment, thinking about this. "I guess you're right about that." He took a satisfied breath, then said, "I wasn't sure I had a lot of life left but now…"

George jumped in. "...you're going to grab it with both hands!"

Jess laughed. "Yeah." He spread his arms out wide. "And I got two hands to do it with!" He breathed the fresh mountain air deeply into his lungs. "You know what, George? I feel so good I could dig up a tree and plant it on the moon!" He laughed again, his wide, gap-toothed grin filling his face with mischief. "But if I did that the Cattle Breeders Association might think I was a farmer instead of a rancher and kick me out!"

George laughed, too. "I'm going to miss your jokes, Jess." He looked over at his patient who wasn't fully recovered but who could already control his body with nimble dexterity. "I'm going to miss you."

"Nah. I think you're goin' to be glad to finally get rid of me."

"That's not true at all," George said with a sad smile. "But right now I think I better get you back to the house before you decide you take off down that trail to the lake and jump in for a swim."

"As long as it's this cold, I think I can control myself."

"I hope so. I don't think you'd enjoy it."

"Me, neither. Let's go finish that game of chess we started yesterday."

END OF CHAPTER 39


	40. Chapter 40

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 40

A few days later, Olaf picked up another guest at the train station. He was a securities banker from New York City, about sixty years old, and supposedly in need of a great deal of restorative care. Actually, he was very healthy, suffering only from overwork and the lack of fresh air and exercise, but he was a wealthy man and unconcerned about the cost of the expensive rest cure available at Doctor Tyler's sanatorium.

Other quests arrived in the days that followed. None of them were really sick enough for urgent medical treatment but all able to afford a summer of special care in the mountains of Colorado.

Soon most of the rooms were occupied. The guests had little contact with each other, retreating to their comfortable rooms to relax in herbed baths and to combat their illnesses with nutritional teas and a sugar pill or two that worked wonders for their various complaints. Most were suffering from the typical aches and pains of the normal aging process and responded well to Liz's good food, walks in the lovely gardens and the attentive care of Doctor Tyler's well-trained staff.

Tyler routinely examined his patients and recommended specific treatments when necessary, but since none of them had a serious illness, he had plenty of time for his studies and to work in his laboratory. The only guest that truly required his medical expertise was Jess. His recovery had accelerated since the beginning of the pleasant spring weather. George's reports of their daily walks were more and more encouraging. They confirmed what Tyler's regular examinations revealed: Jess' time at the sanatorium was limited.

By the end of May, Jess had recovered most of his physical strength and experienced no more breathing difficulties at all and very little pain from his shattered rib. He spent most of the daylight hours outside, rambling around the woods and climbing, even running, up the steepest trails he could find. George had given up trying to keep up with him. He couldn't. He was always left behind, breathing heavily and waiting in some shady spot to Jess to come back from wherever he'd gone.

Jess gradually recognized himself again when he looked in the mirror in the morning to shave. His complexion was healthy, his cheeks filled out, and muscles sculpted his shoulders - both of them. The only thing that reminded him of his long ordeal was the scar on his chest, but he could live that.

One day he sat down at the desk in the library and wrote Slim telling him he expected to be able to come home in three or four weeks, by the end of June at the latest. He joked about not making the cattle auction but assured his partner there would be plenty of other opportunities for him to help him buy first class breeding stock.

By now, he'd learned to trust Doctor Tyler's medical decisions as far as his health was concerned. He didn't want to risk a setback this close to the finish line. He would wait until the doctor dismissed him and enjoy his last days in the sanitarium's comfortable environment. When he thought back about his despair about ever being well again, he cringed inside. It felt like some kind of criminal behavior now but he didn't ponder too much about it. Instead, he felt deeply grateful that the people around him had more faith in him than he'd had in himself. The experience taught him something. It re-confirmed his own basic belief: never give up - there's always hope for the future.

A week or so later, on a beautiful June morning, he arrived early for his regular examination at Doctor Tyler's office. Now that he was healthy again, he couldn't lie around in bed for very long after the sun came up.

As always, Tyler conscientiously examined him, paying special attention to the condition of his heart and lungs. When he took the stethoscope out of his ears, he sighed and shook his head a little.

"Thank you," he said gravely. "You can get dressed again." Clearing his throat, he went to stand near his desk.

"You don't sound very satisfied," Jess said, puzzled. He felt terrific.

"Do I?" the doctor replied, looking thoughtful.

"That's the way it seemed it to me." Jess pulled on his shirt and buttoned it. "I thought I was doing' pretty good, but if I don't get any worse than I am now, I'll be OK. It ain't your fault. You did everything you could."

"Well, dear boy," Tyler said, rubbing his well-groomed beard and avoiding direct contact with Jess, "the problem is - I can't do anything more for you."

"What're talkin' about?"

"Just what I said."

Jess looked at him more in suspicion that alarm, feeling like Tyler wasn't being straight with him for some reason. "How long have I got?" he asked.

"I truly don't know - but at the moment you're perfectly healthy."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me." Tyler smiled. He'd looked forward to this moment for a long time, and he wanted to savor it.

"Could you…" Jess swiped his hair like he was knocking a long legged spider off of it, "...I mean, would you say that again anyway?"

"With the greatest of pleasure!" The doctor threw back his head and laughed happily. "But I'll just be repeating myself. There's nothing I can do to make you any healthier."

"Are you...sure, Doc?"

"Absolutely!"

"Maybe you ought'a examine me again."

"I don't need to. I can't find any abnormalities. Your heart is working perfectly, and your lungs are at full capacity. You're in better condition than a twenty-year-old."

Jess finally understood what Tyler was saying. "You're tellin' me...that I can...go home?" he asked to make sure.

"That's right!" Tyler said joyfully. "It might be better if I could keep you here for another two or three weeks but I'm afraid I'd have a hard time doing that."

"Do I need to?"

"Not really. I've known that you've fully recovered for several weeks now. I think your condition is stable."

"Why didn't you say somethin' before?" Jess snapped with some of his old asperity.

"I wanted to be a hundred percent sure." He smiled paternally at Jess. "I didn't want you to be disappointed."

"Yeah…" Jess unconsciously rubbed the scar on his chest, "...I guess I can understand that." He looked at the doctor skeptically. "You're tellin' me everything is OK again?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you. I know it hard to believe after everything you've been through but you are a well man. Even your rib is completely healed although you should be very careful for the next several months, perhaps even a year. You should do only the lightest of work for the first four weeks! I want Doctor Higgins to examine you once a month for a year. And I would like to examine you in six months just to make sure no inflammation has recurred."

"Sure thing, Doc!" Jess said, beginning to feel excited.

"I know you're a man of your word," Tyler said with relief. "These precautionary measures probably won't be needed, but I don't want to take any unnecessary risks. You may be more susceptible to respiratory problems that could develop into bronchitis or pneumonia, so you must not allow yourself to be exposed to prolonged wet, cold weather."

Jess was smiling now. He was hearing the doctor's instructions and admonition, but he was mostly aware of joy welling up inside of him like a mountain spring. "Thanks, Doctor Tyler," he said, all aglow, his eyes shining into the doctor's. "Thanks for your help. I wouldn't be here without it."

The doctor smiled back at him. "There's nothing to thank me for. You owe your life to your friend Slim Sherman and to your own strong will. You're an unusually determined young man, Jess. I admire you very much."

Jess grinned. "Maybe I was just scared of what was waitin' on me in hell, Doc. And maybe hell was scared of me and threw me out!"

Tyler laughed. "I'm glad you have a sense of humor about it."

"Damn!" Jess said, suddenly sober. "I can't believe I made it. It don't seem real. If it wasn't for this dadgum scar, I think I might'a dreamed the whole thing. I now want it to be over for everybody, especially Mike and Slim. It won't be over for me unless it's over for them."

"They saw it happen, didn't they?"

"Yeah. And Slim can't quit feelin' guilty because he didn't stop it.'"

" _Could_ he have stopped it?"

"No. He couldn't do anything without puttin' Mike and Daisy in danger. I don't blame him - but he blames himself. And I can't change his mind. It'll be hard for me to be happy about gettin' well if he keeps on feelin' guilty."

"Perhaps when you return home fully recovered the problem will be solved. At least I hope so."

"Me, too," Jess said.

"I know you probably want to leave on the next train to the north, but even so it will take you several days to get home. You should telegraph your family immediately so they'll be expecting you."

Jess didn't respond right away. Tyler noticed a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

"I already wrote Slim I'd be home in a couple of weeks…" Jess said thoughtfully. "That'll keep 'em from worryin' for a while…"

Doctor Tyler smiled. By now he understood the playful side of Jess. "It sounds like you might want to surprise them."

"I'd like to try," Jess said with a grin.

"Knowing you, my guess is that you'll succeed."

"Thanks, Doc." Jess threw back his shoulders. He was full of life and ready to go. "Thanks for everything."

The next northern bound train didn't leave Colorado Springs until late afternoon the following day, giving Jess ample time to say his goodbyes to everyone at the sanatorium. The last time he saw Tyler, the doctor gave him a thick brown envelope containing all of his medical records and clinical notes, including the ones Doctor Higgins had sent with him. When Jess took it and shook hands with Tyler for the last time, he expressed his thanks in words, but it was the look in his eyes that really spoke for him. The doctor had helped give him his life back and he wouldn't forget it. Jess never forgot a friend, especially one like this.

After saying goodbye to Doctor Tyler, Jess met George who was waiting for him in the carriage in front of the house to take him to the train station in town. They were both quiet for a while as they rode through the forest shaded land until Jess pushed back his broad brimmed black hat, leaned back against the back of the seat and said, "What're you thinkin' about, George?"

George glanced him, smiling. "About how happy I am that you're able to go home."

"Yeah. Me, too," Jess said, grinning.

"You're going to enjoy seeing that boy of yours again. I bet he's a head taller than he was six months ago."

"He probably is, especially since he'll eat the hair off your head when he's hungry." Jess was in the mood to talk. "You know this road ain't as bumpy as I remember it."

"You were in pretty bad shape the first time you rode over it," George said. Then with a cautious glance at Jess, he added, "You know, in all these months you never told me about the day you were shot. Were you helping the sheriff out when it happened?"

With a wry twist of his mouth, Jess shook his head. "Nope. He didn't have anything to do with it. I was ambushed by a couple of men that broke into the house while I was away." As they rolled toward town, Jess told George most of the details of the terrible event that eventually brought him to Colorado Springs. It didn't bother him to talk about it now. It seemed like something that happened to someone else, at least until he said, "Slim's still blamin' himself."

George saw the expression on his face change. On a hunch, he asked, "Maybe you're blaming yourself, Jess. I mean, maybe you think what he's feeling is your fault."

"Blamin' myself?" Jess said, mystified.

"People do, even when they're the victims."

Jess thought about what he said. "You might be right, especially when it comes to Mike. I'm supposed to be the one takin' care of him." He jumped ahead into a worrisome picture of the future. "Every time I strap on a gun I'm takin' a chance somethin' might happen to me, especially if I'm workin' for Mort as a deputy."

"Yes, but… I've gotten to know you, and I don't think you could live with yourself if you didn't stand up for what you think is right."

Jess nodded, clamping his lips down in rueful acknowledgment of what George said. "I been around enough to know you never know what's goin' to happen next. Workin' on a ranch ain't exactly safe - but I can't hide out in bed all day."

"As a medical person, I wouldn't advise you to do that anyway." George grinned. "Believe it or not, most people die in bed."

Jess laughed. "That's a good reason not to lie around in one any more than you got to."

"I wondered if you're worried about getting hurt again because you're afraid those men who shot you might come back."

"There's no danger of that." Then, in a strange contrast to the quiet of the mountains around them, Jess told him about the cash the bank in Laramie had needed to transfer and the gunfight with Hal's gang that he and Mort fought just before he came to Colorado Springs. As he finished, he said, "The sheriff was hit and all three of the gang were killed, but nobody else was hurt."

"Except for you and that graze on your ear."

Jess' hand went reflexively to the spot on his ear where he'd been hit. "How'd you know about that?"

"When you first got here it wasn't healed up yet. I thought you might have cut yourself shaving."

"I forget you're a doc sometimes."

"Not a doctor, Jess, just someone with a lot of experience helping one. And I think I finally understand why you wear that gun you've got. I hope when I see you again in six months you won't have any more bullet wounds."

"Aw…, I don't get shot as much as you think I do."

"All those scars you have tell a different story."

"That ain't so! I got some but they ain't all from bullet wounds."

"You're right about that. I found scars from an arrowhead, a knife wound, other blunt objects, skin abrasions, bites, a palm-sized burn and shrapnel. The shrapnel must be from the war, right?"

"You got good eyes."

"I had a long time to check you out. I'm sure you could tell some hair-raising stories. Do you want to know how many bones I think you've broken?"

"Don't worry about me, George. I'm goin' to be as careful as a church mouse when I get home."

"I highly recommend it."

"Yeah," Jess teased, "but you never know what might happen on the train going up there." They both laughed. Only Jess knew how seriously he meant what he'd just said.

A little while later they pulled up before the Colorado Springs' train station. It was nothing more than a large wooden shed covered with a weatherproof tarp. The train from the south hadn't arrived yet. While they waited, the two men had a cup of coffee and strolled around the outside of the building.

"You don't have to wait for me to leave," Jess told George, but his companion took his work very seriously.

"My job ends when you're in your compartment and the train pulls out. I want the pleasure of your company until the last minute - unless you want to get rid of me."

"Hell, no! I don't want to get rid of you. I like you!" He slapped the assistant on the shoulder and walked side by side with him in the glow of the setting sun. It was an early summer evening, and a light breeze blew in the spicy scent of the forest from the mountains. Lamps began to shine from the windows in the town as darkness fell over the valley, leaving the mountain peaks outlined by a red and yellow sunset.

Jess paused to let his gaze sweep over the rustic mining village. "I've been here for half a year and never even wanted to come down here and look around."

"There's still time to do that."

"Nah. I know the place."

"You've been here before?"

"A couple of years ago. It's grown a lot since then."

"It's because of the mines."

"Well, that kind of life ain't for me. I'd rather wrangle horses and cows in the fresh air."

"I'm glad. Mining does a lot of damage to the lungs of the men who work in them. But it's made some people very wealthy. And they bring up lots of gold and silver. Everybody likes that."

"Yeah, but you can't eat gold and silver. We've sold some livestock down here. Everybody likes that, too. We take the herds north to Canada now because of all the competition coming up from the south. But if you ever see our brand somewhere…" with the tip of his boot he drew the 'S-R' mark in the sand, "...you know it's one of ours."

"No 'H' on it for Harper?"

"Nope. Slim and me are legal partner's but changin' the brand on all the livestock was more work than it was worth."

"I'm glad to hear you know how to conserve your energy. You're going to have to do more of that from now on."

"Don't worry. We're goin' to expand but we'll take our time about gettin' the land option before addin' some first class breedin' stock."

"It's good to hear you talking about the future, Jess."

"It's good to have a future to talk about. I wouldn't have one if it hadn't been for your help. Thanks, George. Thanks a lot."

"It was my pleasure, Jess - but it was also my job."

"You wouldn't of helped me if you didn't get paid for it?"

"Of course I would have! I haven't taken the Oath of Hippocrates but I know what it says, and I abide by it. I'm compelled to help."

Jess studied him, wondering a little about him the same way George puzzled over him. The assistant was an unusual person. Jess didn't completely understand him, but he respected him and was deeply grateful to him.

"So what does your future look like?" he asked him. "Are you goin' to have another special guest to look after?"

George sighed. "In ten days, I'll have the Widow Ablegard to tend to. She's wealthy and at seventy, she's healthier than most women half her age. And," he gave Jess a look, "she'll have her granddaughter with her. Mrs. Ablegard is looking for a husband for her. You're just the kind of good-looking fellow she'd go after. Want to stay around for a while?" When that made Jess laugh, George added, "I've heard you laugh more today than you have in the whole time you've been here. I hope you keep on laughing in the future."

"I plan to," Jess said. "I'm goin' home."

END OF CHAPTER 40


	41. Chapter 41

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 41

An hour later, Jess sat in a comfortable compartment on the Denver and Rio Grande train heading north. He slept most of the way until the train stopped in Denver where he had a four-hour wait for the train to Cheyenne.

Jess used the break to go into town for a big breakfast and a haircut and a shave. Then he went shopping. When he got back to the train, it took a moment for the conductor to recognize him. In a perfectly fitted vest, a white shirt and an elegant frock coat he looked like a handsome young gentleman boarding the train on an important business trip.

Jess had needed a new suit but didn't really like wearing clothes like this. In his opinion, they were uncomfortable, but this new outfit was part of the plan he'd concocted to surprise the folks at home. He especially wanted to trick Slim who wasn't expecting him for another three weeks. From a distance, the rancher would think he was a traveling salesman who often used the stage to get from town to town and whose pushy opportunism annoyed Slim the minute he saw them.

By late afternoon, the train reached the breathtaking scenery of the Rocky Mountains near Cheyenne. Jess felt like he was almost home but when he tried to buy a ticket to Laramie, the ticket master told him a landslide had blocked one of the mountain passes. The route would be closed for at least two days.

"But," the man behind the window said, "The Overland Stage Company is making extra runs so all you folks who've been stranded can get where you're going. The stages don't usually run at night but the moon's full right now. If you don't mind a bumpy ride, I can get you on the coach that's leaving at midnight."

"Put me on it," Jess said, thinking that this might work out better than getting into Laramie by train. Besides, he wouldn't mind having a few hours to spend in town. He had a friend in Cheyenne he hadn't seen it a long time.

Jess hired one of the cabs in front of the train station to take him downtown. As he rode through the city streets, he grinned, remembering the overzealous young deputy who'd tried to arrest him when he stopped there on his way to Colorado Springs. _"Who knows who he'll think I am if he sees me today,"_ he thought. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the cushioned seat, enjoying the warm summer evening and the sights of the town he knew so well. He felt wonderful. He was alive and was only seventy miles from home.

The cab stopped in front of the Grand Teton Hotel so Jess could get out. After paying the fare, he paused to study the list of events posted at the hotel's entrance. While he was reading about a bake sale to raise money for the building of an opera house, he heard a familiar feminine voice talking to someone at the door of one of the nearby shops. Turning his head, he was delighted to see his friend Molly, the maker of the best stew in Cheyenne and the owner of his favorite place to eat.

He'd met her many years ago in Abilene when she'd been a dance hall girl, and he'd been a wild young cowboy ready to tear apart the saloon where she was working. There were a lot of other customers there that night, but Jess' vivid blue eyes and dark wavy hair had caught her attention, and held it with his air of sadness and mystery and his unexpected courtesy.

Years later, after she'd saved enough money to move north and open her own cafe in Cheyenne, she met him again. This time he was a respectable rancher from Laramie in town on business, but his charm was just as irresistible and his eyes were just as blue. Their relationship grew during his frequent visits to the city. They enjoyed each other's company even though Molly valued her independence just as much as Jess did. They were intimate friends, and both were happy to keep it that way, but the last time she'd seen him he'd scared her. He'd been so gaunt and ill, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes. She'd been afraid she would never see him again.

Now, she heard his voice behind her - that lovely resonate baritone with its hint of a southern accent - saying, "Howdy, Miss Molly."

She twirled around and saw him with a mischievous smile on his face, a face that revealed a remarkable mixture of unyielding strength and boyishness, daredevil roughness and sweet sensitivity.

"Jess!" Her throat closed up, choking off her words. She wasn't expecting him, and he looked so different from the way she'd seen him six months ago. "Oh," she finally exclaimed and clapped her hands together in excitement. "It's you… It's really you…"

Jess grabbed her hands and held them, smiling into her dark brown eyes. "Have I changed that much?" he teased, resisting the urge to kiss her.

"Only the outside of you!" she said joyfully. "You look so much better!"

Jess' face softened, and he leaned in for the kiss he wanted - but this time _he_ was the one to hear a familiar voice coming from behind him. A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"Mister, we don't let card sharks bother the ladies in our town," the voice growled out.

It was Vern, as eager as ever to uphold law and order in Cheyenne. Jess ducked his head, then cocked it in amused resignation.

Molly was outraged. "Stop it, Vern!" she scowled angrily.

"Is this fellow botherin' you, ma'am?"

"Don't be silly! Don't you know who this is?"

Jess turned around to face the young deputy, making sure to keep his right hand away from his pistol. "I'm beginnin' to think you got somethin' personal against me," he joked.

Vern stared at him, frowning. The fellow did seem kind of familiar. "Do we know each other?" he said, his voice challenging.

"Think about it, Vern," Jess said, stepping out of the shade of the boardwalk into the sunlight on the street so Vern could see him. "Remember? About six months ago you wanted to arrest me because you thought I was robbing the bank?"

Recognition dawned and Vern's freckled face flushed red. "Oh, yeah… You're...you're Jess Harper!"

"That's me!" He held out his hand for the deputy to shake. "I hope you're not goin' to make a habit of confusin' me with some guy on a wanted poster."

"No, sir! Not me! But… you don't look like you did last time I saw you." His lips tightened in resignation as he shook Jess' hand. "Excuse the mistake." He tipped his hat to Molly. "My apologies, ma'am."

"Apology accepted," she snapped, ready to be rid of Vern. "We're old friends. He's the most respectable man I know." She smiled at Jess. Her eyes were full of an invitation that created a frisson of pleasurable anticipation between them.

Vern took the hint, especially when he saw Molly slip her hand around Jess' arm. "Well…" he said, tipping his hat again, this time a little embarrassed, "I guess I better get on with my rounds - if you all will excuse me, that is."

They watched him walk away, Molly with relief and Jess with a certain benevolence.

"He'll be a good sheriff once he's dry behind the ears," Jess said and turned back to Molly with a gleam in his eye and a teasing smile. "Now, where were we?"

"Here," she replied, throwing her arms around his neck. She kissed him, surprising, delighting and embarrassing him all at the same time.

"Whoa…" he said, pulling away a little, caught between desire and self-consciousness, "We're out here in the middle of the street. What're folks goin' to think?"

"I don't care," she answered, her face close to his. "Let them say whatever they want to - or is my way of saying hello too uncomfortable for you?"

"Nah…" he said with a mischievous smile. "I don't mind."

"Now it's your turn - or I'll have Vern arrest you for failing to be polite."

"We can't let that happen…"

This time he was the one who kissed her, taking her breath away as he wrapped her up in his arms.

When they finally pulled apart, he asked, "Do you greet all your long lost friends like this?"

Molly flushed as she felt the heat radiating from him, enveloping her. "Only...the most...respectable...ones." She was breathing heavily but recovered herself enough to say, "You...looked so...ill the last time I saw you. I didn't get to talk to you when you ate lunch at the cafe, but I knew there was something wrong."

"That was a long time ago. I'm OK now."

"Are you sure? I met Slim when he came back from Colorado Springs a couple of months ago. He was really worried about you."

"Come on, Molly. It's too nice a day for that kind'a talk. I'm fine, and I'd rather be celebratin' our reunion instead of goin' over my medical history again."

"Typical Jess Harper!" Molly complained. "Getting you to talk about yourself is just as hard as ever."

"Hey," he teased, "I thought you liked me."

She looked at him, studying his face with its intriguing combination of hardness and sensitivity. His eyes were sparkling like two blue sapphires, and they were looking at her in a way that made knees go weak.

"Oh, I like you, Jess Harper. Stay just the way you are."

Jess was enjoying the sensual play between them, but he wanted to get out of the middle of the street and away from all the curious people were looking at them. "Why don't we go somewhere to get some coffee? I could use something to eat, too."

Molly was charmed by this slightly awkward invitation. Sometimes Jess had a shyness about him that she found adorable.

"That's a wonderful idea! Do you have enough time?"

"Yeah. The stage won't leave 'til midnight."

"You're not going by train?"

"The tracks are blocked by a landslide."

"Then we could… I mean, you could stay in town for a while."

"Just until the stage leaves." When he saw the sadness in her eyes, he gently held her shoulders and said, "Don't get me wrong, Molly. I'd like to stay longer - and I'll be back in a couple of weeks. But the folks at home haven't seen me in six months. I want…"

"It's alright," she interrupted, putting two fingers on his lips to hush him. "I understand." She hooked her arm through his and led him toward her cafe. "At least we have a few hours…"

When Jess saw where she was heading, he hung back a little. "Uh, Molly…. When I said something about food, I wasn't thinkin' about stew… Nothing against your stew! It's the best in town…"

She laughed, throwing her head back in delight at his boyish awkwardness. "I don't have a lick of stew today," she said. "I'm not open at night anyway." She snuggled as close to him as she could while they were walking. "Just come inside for a cup of coffee while I change into something more appropriate."

Jess shot her a knowing look. "Appropriate for what?" he teased.

"For wherever you want to take me," she said, smiling back at him, the warmth in her eyes matching the shimmering fire in his own.

END OF CHAPTER 41


	42. Chapter 42

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 42

After Slim left the ranch in such a hurry, it was only a matter of time before Mike suspected the real reason for his trip. Daisy and Charlie could spin whatever tales they wanted to, but the more evasive they were, the more Mike's fears about Jess grew. Something terrible must have happened that they weren't telling him about because Slim would never have gone on a business trip without saying anything about it before he left.

Despite having to go back to school after the holiday break, Mike's initial disappointment that Slim hadn't taken him with him soon changed into chronic, nagging anxiety. After two agonizing nights haunted by gruesome nightmares, he concluded he would never see Jess again. All his hopes and prayers, the countless promises and deals he had made and kept with God, were all for nothing.

He was convinced of this until the telegram came from Colorado Springs letting Daisy know Jess had passed the crisis. She was so pleased with the good news she gave up the pretense about Slim's business trip and told Mike the truth about what was going on.

Mike didn't know what to think about all this contradictory talk. He couldn't trust anybody. Even Jess had lied to him in his last letter, telling him he was doing alright. Mike read and reread the letter every night, memorizing it by heart, but he couldn't find anything in it that would have alarmed Slim enough to leave so suddenly. The only thing that made sense to him was the idea that adults had a secret way of communicating with each other that children couldn't understand no matter how hard they tried.

His terrible depression didn't lift until Slim got back from Colorado Springs and had a frank man-to-man talk with him. Slim was able to assure the boy that Jess was still very ill and wouldn't come home for a long time, but he was clearly getting better. Mike seemed to believe him and even forgave him for not telling him the truth about his trip from the beginning, but the boy didn't return to normal.

To Daisy, he appeared to lose all remnants of childish lightheartedness. The dishonesty about Jess' health and Slim's trip that was meant to spare him had deeply disappointed him instead. He wasn't angry or rebellious, just quieter. He silently did whatever he was told to do and no longer complained if something didn't suit him, but he would go off by himself as soon as he could so he could withdraw to his room or go outside to be with Browny. He didn't want to be around adults any more than he had to. They were no longer to be trusted.

This behavior went on for weeks. Not even the letters that started coming in from Colorado Springs lightened Mike's mood. He didn't trust them any more than he trusted Slim's and Daisy's reassurance that everything was going to be alright again. He'd figured out that Jess wasn't writing the letters himself. His signature was always on them, but the boy had no confidence that the words in the letters were Jess' own. If Jess couldn't even write a letter, Mike knew his foster father's health was still very bad.

Then one day, a letter came that had clearly been written by Jess himself. The boy's mood - and everyone else's - immediately changed for the better. It was hard to read the writing, which was one reason Mike knew it was Jess' own hand. The boy absorbed every letter, pointed to every word with his finger and fell into a state of blissful relief. Wanting to share the good news, he ran out to the barn to read the letter to Browny who listened to Mike's voice with pointed ears. The pony seemed disappointed to find out the paper wasn't something he could eat but Mike was protective of his treasure. It disappeared immediately into his pocket once he finished reading it.

From now on, a letter came from Colorado Springs every two weeks with clock-like regularity. Sometimes it was a page long, sometimes only a few lines but each one was in Jess' own handwriting. To Slim, who could read between the lines, every letter was full of growing optimism. Now they were all sure they would see Jess again. They didn't know exactly when or whether he would be completely healthy or not but that didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was the certainty that he would be with them again.

Mike's emotional state improved with every letter that arrived. His grades improved, he rarely stayed alone in his room and his youthful exasperation with adult rules and daily chores returned. Slim, Daisy and Charlie were relieved by this restoration of normalcy. This was especially true for Slim. Now that warmer weather was here, there was more to do in the pastures and he had less time to focus on the boy.

At the first of June, the noon stage brought a letter from Jess. In it, he apologized for not being able to make the livestock auction in Denver, but it also told the family he would be home by the end of the month. After reading this, Mike couldn't hold still. He hopped and danced around the house and yard and ran out to see his pony so he could tell him the good news. When he got to the barn, he did somersaults in the straw and the hay. At the supper table, he ate enough for two people and the next morning when he saddled Browny to ride to school, he tied a colorful scarf around the pony's neck as if they were off to a parade.

At school, he couldn't sit still. His liveliness strained Miss Finch's nerves to the breaking point before he finally had an opportunity to tell her the good news. If he'd had a way, he would have announced Jess' plans to come home to all of Laramie, to the whole Territory.

From then on, he began to count the days to the end of the month even though he really didn't know exactly when Jess would arrive. In his zeal, he made a chart that broke down each day until the end of June into hours. Each morning he informed everyone of the number of hours left and every evening he reviewed his figures to make sure they were accurate. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful it felt to be happy. Every day his eyes shone a little brighter.

Daisy rejoiced as much about Mike's good mood as she did about Jess coming home. When she saw the boy at breakfast one morning near the middle of June, she wondered how much more his radiance could increase over the next eighteen days - or as Mike told her when he came into the kitchen - over the next four hundred thirty-two hours.

Slim, however, was worried that Mike might be disappointed if Jess couldn't make it back by the end of June. When he sat down at the table to eat that morning, he asked the boy what he would do if this should this be the case. Mike gave him the stout-hearted response that he would tolerate the delay without complaining about it. Then he told the rancher that school vacation would start next week and that would give him a lot more time to work on his calculations.

Slim was already irritable because he landslide on the Union Pacific track was creating more work than he could do. As he watched Mike race out of the kitchen door toward the barn, he shook his head and with a frown said, "I hope Jess comes home before that boy goes completely loco."

"Oh, Slim, let him be. I think it's wonderful that's he's so happy. After all these terrible months, it seems like a gift from heaven that we can all share. After Jess' last letter came, I've noticed that you've been feeling better, too."

"Yeah, you're right. At least, I was until all these extra stages started coming through." He disappeared into his office to go through the mail that the regular stage had dropped off earlier. Then he came back to the kitchen for a cup of coffee before the special overnight coach from Cheyenne arrived. As he sat down at the table, he looked up apologetically at Daisy. "Sorry for getting impatient with Mike. He's just being a kid."

"No need to apologize, Slim," Daisy said, pouring his coffee. "We've all gotten impatient with each other at times during these last terrible months, but we're usually not that way. To be honest, I'm just as happy as Mike is about our family being reunited." She paused, holding the coffee pot in her hand and lifted her head, smiling. "It's wonderful how so much grief has suddenly changed into joy. It's like a door has opened and we can all see a bright future again."

Slim downed his coffee in one gulp, stood up, closed his big hands around her dainty shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "How many hours did Mike say it was until Jess got home?"

"About four hundred and thirty-two, I believe."

"That doesn't seem so long, does it? Not after all we've been through. Jess would laugh at us if he knew what we were doing. You know how much he likes to keep the account books."

"Oh, I think he just _pretends_ not to know how to do that. He likes counting cows instead," she said, moving past him to the kitchen counter where she started to unload the kitchen shelves.

Slim watched her stack piles of blue patterned plates and cups on the table. "Are you looking for something?" he asked, puzzled.

"I'm cleaning out the cabinets!" she said, surprised by his lack of understanding. "I have to wipe away all the bread crumbs and such! Why, we would be overrun with mice if I didn't I didn't keep the shelves clean! They carry disease you know."

"I think we would have all died young if it weren't for you."

"Well," she said, busy at her task, "I don't mean to exaggerate. A little bit of dirt never hurt anyone. You and Jess certainly prove that with the work you do."

"Don't let Mike hear you say that," he joked. "We have enough trouble getting him to take a bath!"

"I'll be careful! Now go along with you!"

She shooed him out of her way. He was happy to go. She might have roped him in to help her out and he needed to get ready for the special coach. The first stage had come at dawn but night time driving was always slower. It probably wouldn't arrive until nine o'clock. He hoped the passengers had all eaten at one of the other stations because Daisy had already cooked one breakfast this morning. His irritation over the demands of running the relay station flared up again. As soon as his partner got back, Slim planned to talk to him about how to handle the overload. It was a big one: the yearlings hadn't been branded yet, Charlie was busy repairing fences, obtaining the land option would create extra work, repairs were needed to all the buildings and they needed a new hayshed - not to mention all the countless household maintenance projects Daisy always wanted to be done. Besides, running the relay business meant that somebody had to be at the house all the time.

Slim realized they were either going to have to hire more hands, which would add to current expenses, or they were going to have to give up the relay business. The rancher preferred the second choice. They weren't dependent on the income the station brought anymore and dealing with passengers every day was getting annoying when other things needed to be done. Most importantly, Slim knew that Jess would sooner or later end up riding shotgun again if they kept the relay franchise. Slim didn't want that. Jess was too valuable to him and the family to keep on risking his life protecting the stagecoaches and whatever they might be transporting.

As Slim rounded up the replacement horses from the corral, he heard the rattle and rumble of the stage from Cheyenne coming down the road. They'd made good time. It wasn't nine o'clock yet.

Mose Andrews was perched atop the driver's seat. He liked night runs because they were a lot cooler than bouncing around on a hard wooden seat under the broiling sun.

"Howdy, Slim!" he yelled and brought the heavy vehicle to a halt in the middle of the yard amid a thick dust cloud that blew up and disappeared in the pasture. "I made a extra trip today just on the chance of gettin' some of Miss Daisy's raisin buns!" He locked the brake and with astonishing agility for a man his age climbed down from his airy seat and opened the stagecoach door to help the passengers out.

"If anybody wants coffee, it's in the house…" he told them, but his three customers, a young couple obviously on their honeymoon and an elderly, well-dressed lady, declined with thanks and walked away to stretch their legs.

"Lew let me know me this morning that you were heading this way," Slim told Mose, "but I'm sorry about the raisin buns. You're out of luck today."

"That's a dadburn shame. Well, I'll just have to settle for some coffee."

"We got that, but I'd advise you against it."

"How come?"

"Daisy's turning the cabinet's inside out. It's cleaning day."

"Now how about that?" Mose scrubbed the stubby beard on his face. "I 'pect I better not be botherin' her then." He cocked a gleeful eye at Slim. "You know that cleanin' fever is contagious!"

Slim laughed and finished the harnessing. The stage was ready to roll out in a few minutes, but as the rancher helped the three passengers get back in, he noticed another person in the yard on the other side of the coach. Apparently, the fellow had used the other stage door as an exit and had wandered over to the fence. He seemed to be intent on examining the horses in the pasture.

"Hang on, Mose!" Slim shouted to the driver who was already climbing up to his seat as fast as he'd climbed down. "You got another passenger over there!"

"No need to wait on him!" Moses yelled back and scrambled around for a piece of luggage on the roof of the stage. "That there is Jeremiah Holbrook. He said he wanted to get off here and enjoy the country air for a few days."

"We don't run a hotel!" Slim snapped. "Get him back on the stage - and leave that luggage where it is!"

Moses stopped what he was doing for a minute and looked down at Slim. "Look, boy," he said confidentially, "I wouldn't mess around with that galoot if I was you. I think he's one of them slick card sharks with a slicker gun. Wouldn't be surprised if he weren't aimin' to hide out here for a couple of days, if you know what I mean…."

"Well, he can't stay here!" Slim glared up at Mose. "Did you tell him he could?"

"No….not directly." Mose tried to hand Slim the big carpetbag he'd pulled off the roof of the stage, but when the rancher wouldn't take it, he dropped it at his feet. "Be careful what you say to him. I'm glad to be rid of him."

Slim was furious. "Then you better tell Mort Corey to get out here as soon as he can because he won't be staying here."

"Sure thing, Slim! I bet the sheriff has a poster out on him right now!"

"Thanks a lot, Mose!" Slim growled.

"Glad to do it! Say…" he picked up the reins, ready to go, "you heard anything from Jess?"

Slim's scowl faded a little. "Yeah. He'll be coming home by the end of the month."

"Then he'll be back for the 4th of July shindig! We'll have somethin' to celebrate for sure."

"Yeah, I guess we will," Slim snapped, irritable again. "Remember what I said about the sheriff!"

"Okey dokey," Moses said and cracked the whip. The horses lunged forward hauling the coach and its passengers toward Laramie. Slim didn't see Mose throw back his head and cackle with glee as the stage rolled out of sight. He would love to see the rancher try to throw Jeremiah Holbrook off his property. What a humdinger of a joke that was going to be!

Slim didn't even glance at the departing stage. Focused entirely on his unwelcome visitor, he bent to study the name tag on the carpet bag Mose had dumped at his feet. "Jeremiah Holbrook," the rancher muttered grimly to himself. "That doesn't tell me anything. Probably not even his real name. I'd like to know what's in there." He straightened up and studied the stranger who stood with his back toward him, still watching the horses.

The stranger made a well-groomed impression in his dark dress coat and matching trousers. He seemed to be a handsome man, a little smaller than Slim himself. Wide shoulders tightened the perfectly fitted jacket he wore, but at the right hip, there was a telltale bulge that put Slim on high alert.

 _"_ _At least he's not carrying his gun under his armpit or up his sleeve,"_ Slim thought, knowing that didn't really make him any less dangerous.

Straightening his shoulders, Slim took a deep breath. He adjusted his own gun belt to make sure his pistol was close at hand and puffed up like a young bull about to charge. He hadn't forgotten what had happened to his friend nine months ago. He hadn't expected an attack then - and guns were guns. They were just as deadly in the hands of a businessman as they were in the hands of the murderers who shot Jess. Before he headed for the fence, he glanced back at the house. All the doors were closed. That suited him. He wanted Daisy to be out of harm's way.

As he walked across the yard, Slim wondered why he thought so badly of this man. He didn't know anything about him, only his name and Mose's vague allegations. That wasn't enough to make a judgment about him, but Slim felt uneasy. A memory of the outlaw gang's attack popped into his mind so vividly the bullet in his pocket started burning. It didn't hurt like it had before but the rancher was conscious enough of it to consider it a warning of some kind.

He quietly moved closer. The man at fence hadn't moved. He seemed completely relaxed, his left thumb tucked into his belt as watched the horses. Slim was puzzled. Maybe he wasn't a card shark. Maybe he was one of those dandies from the East who thought they were invincible once they crossed the Missouri River because they'd strapped on a shooting iron. Oddly enough, Slim dismissed this idea as soon as it came to him.

The closer he came to the man the less he knew what to make of him. He seemed unconcerned about what was going on behind him, but who knew what he might do if he was startled. Slim cleared his throat several times, making sure the spurs on his boots jangled loudly as he strode toward the fence. The stranger took no notice of him.

 _"He could be hard of hearing,"_ Slim thought, completely baffled. As he closed in on him, he knew he wasn't a dandy. Instead of slickered down hair and the sweet smell of pomade, the warm summer breeze played with a few strands of the man's dark, slightly wavy hair that were curling out from under his hat. Slim ignored the strange sense of familiarity that swept over him. He was sure he'd never met Jeremiah Holbrook before.

"Eh-mm!" Slim cleared his throat as loudly as he could. "Jeremiah Holbrook?" he asked, his voice full of warning. The man didn't move. _"Definitely hard of hearing,"_ Slim reasoned. He tried again. "Mr. Holbrooke? I'm Slim Sherman. The driver said… Mr. Holbrooke!" he finally, yelled, frustrated.

The man leaned slightly forward, cocked his head to the side and turned slowly to look up at Slim, "Are you talking' to me?"

Slim stared at him open-mouthed, unable to say a word. Then his face transformed with delight and he yelled, "Jess!" He grabbed him by both shoulders before he suddenly remembered his partner's injury. He dropped his hands and stared at him again. "Jess!" He sounded shocked and worried now. "What the hell are doing here? Are you OK?"

"Yeah!" Jess said. He swung his left shoulder around in a circle and ended with a hard punch on Slim's arm. "It's over! I'm well!"

Slim's face lit up with joy. He grabbed Jess around the neck and gave him a rough and tumble bear hug, slapping him on the back and nearly lifting him off his feet. "Jumping Jehoshaphat! Jess! You old son of a gun! You're back!"

Jess' hat fell off under Slim's man-mauling hug. He started laughing and slapping Slim on the back and trying to wiggle out of his partner's grip all at the same time. Slim grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him away a little so he could hold him still and really look at him. He was afraid to believe his own eyes.

Jess was laughing so hard he could hardly speak. "How about just sayin' 'Welcome home?'" he said and ran his hand through his hair to settle it and himself back down. "If you grab me again, I might have to go back to that hospital again!"

Slim ignored him. He grabbed him by the shoulders again and shook him. "Welcome home, partner!"

"I'm glad to be here!" Jess said, grinning from ear to ear. "It's been a long time."

"Well, you're back now," Slim was grinning, too, but he was also checking Jess out to make sure he was really OK. "You said you wouldn't be home until the end of June. Are you sure you're all healed up?"

"Yeah, Slim. I'm OK." Jess was smiling at him now, his face as full of joy as his partners.

"You better pinch me so I can make sure I'm not dreaming."

"I can do that." He reached for the rancher's side.

"Hold on, now!" Slim protested. "I think I'm getting used things. You sure you're really well?"

"That's what Tyler told me four days ago."

"And you didn't leave before he said you could?" Slim said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"No!" Jess looked insulted. "He discharged me! I swear, Slim! He said I was as healthy as a twenty-year old. I couldn't get on a train fast enough! And, well…," he grinned again, "here I am!"

"You sure are! And without sending a telegram to let us know you were coming."

"I wanted to surprise you!" Jess said, delighted with himself and how well his joke had worked.

"You did that!" Slim grabbed by the shoulder just because it felt so good to touch his partner without being afraid he would fall to his knees. "We would have rolled out the red carpet if you'd let us know."

"I didn't know we had one!"

"We would have found one real quick!" Slim laughed without letting him go. Still inspecting him up and down, he finally took notice of the fancy outfit Jess was wearing and released his partner's shoulder to finger the lapel of the new jacket. "Oh, boy! No wonder Mose told me you were a card shark. You're all decked out like one!"

Jess reared back, acting offended. "This is a disguise!"

"Disguise? Is it Halloween already?"

"I had to throw you off somehow. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been a surprise."

"I take it you and Mose were in this together."

Jess grinned. "How did he do?"

"Kept a straight face and asked me if I had heard from you!"

Jess' grin stretched wider. "He said he's been looking' for a way to settle some old scores he had with you."

"Real funny!" Slim said sarcastically, but then he laughed. "Where did you come up with Jeremiah Holbrook? Sounds like a snake oil salesman."

"JH - my initials! Mose thought Jedidiah would be better, but I didn't want to overdo things."

Slim shook his head, charmed as usual by his partner's occasional boyishness, but then he remembered Daisy. "Well, hey now! We got to let Daisy know you're home! I can't wait to see her face when she sees you!"

"Me either!" Jess said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Where's Mike!"

"At school. Summer vacation won't start until next week."

Jess looked pleased. "So...I'll start with Daisy. I hope she hasn't seen me yet."

"Not a chance. She's cleaning out the kitchen cabinets. The house could fall down around her and she wouldn't know it."

"Great! Are you in?" He asked, knowing Slim understand what he meant.

"Sure! This'll be fun!"

They moved toward the house as if they were sneaking up on an armed gunman but instead of being grimly silent, they laughed and hushed each other like two silly boys in a schoolyard about to play a trick on their teacher. Before they crept onto the porch, Jess snatched up the carpetbag Moses had dropped on the ground. Then he let Slim go in front of him to open the door while he backed up against the porch wall, listening intently to what was going on inside.

Slim sobered up and did his best to look serious before walking into the living room.

"Slim!" Daisy called when she heard someone come in. "Is that you?" Like Slim, she was always on guard since the attack.

"Yeah! It's just me!" He grinned back toward Jess.

"Is the stage here already?" she asked.

Slim quickly strode across the living room to the kitchen, signaling Jess to follow him. His partner noiselessly slid inside, set the carpetbag on the floor and tiptoed to stand beside the kitchen door as Slim talked to an unsuspecting Daisy. She was still busily working on the cabinets. Their contents were stacked all over the table and countertops. She didn't even turn around to look at him.

"The stage has already gone," Slim told her. "Nobody wanted coffee, but Mose told me to tell you hello."

"That's nice," Daisy said, scrubbing down the shelf that held the spices.

"He wanted to know when Jess was coming home because he knew you would be baking raisin buns for him. I told him he'd only get some if you hid them from Jess." He felt a rough cuff between his ribs and answered with a blind, backhanded swipe at this partner.

Daisy took her head out of the cabinet to look at Slim for the first time. "That Mose! Did you tell him Jess will be back soon?"

"Yeah. He liked that."

"You're right. I _should_ make some raisin buns just for Mose. He won't get any at all when Jess comes home."

"Mose would like that, too." Slim's gaze swept over the crockery. "I didn't know we had so much stuff in those cabinets."

"We do, don't we?" She smiled with satisfaction.

"Well," Slim said, "I better get on out of here before you get any ideas about me helping me put all this back."

"If you stayed around very long, I probably would!" she said brightly. "So get along with you!" She flapped her cleaning rag at him before she turned back to the cabinets. She was so absorbed in her task that it was easy for Jess to step quietly into the kitchen and sneak up behind her. He slipped his hands around her eyes.

Daisy wasn't very startled. She was sure this was Slim. Since he'd learned that Jess was coming home, his mood had lightened. He'd played one trick after another on her, making both of them laugh.

"Slim! You half-grown boy! You're being as silly as Jess!"

"What did you say, Daisy? I couldn't hear you?" Slim's voice came from the living room where he'd retreated when Jess slipped into the kitchen.

"Slim?" Daisy's suddenly stopped laughing. Now she was frightened. "Slim! Slim! There's someone in here! Help me!" She started beating wildly at the stranger's hands. "Do something!"

Slim came back inside the kitchen. "Don't worry, Daisy!" he said, trying not to laugh. "I'm right here!"

The hands on Daisy's eyes were gentle but she knew they weren't Slim's. This trick, or whatever it was, had gone on long enough! Not knowing what else to do, she felt around on the counter, laid hold of the rolling pin she knew was there, and struck out blindly behind her, aiming for the head of whoever was holding her - but Jess was quicker. He grabbed her wrist with one hand and twirled her around to face him, holding her hand with the rolling pin up as if he were dancing with her.

"Are you tryin' to kill me with that thing?" he said, laughing.

The rolling pin fell out of Daisy's hand and slammed to the floor beside her. Dumbfounded, she stared up at Jess, her mouth open and her eyes wide in shock and surprise. "Jess…" she cried when she found her voice. "Jess… I must be dreaming!"

"No, Daisy, you're ain't dreamin'! Not out here in broad daylight!" he said, squeezing her close to him.

Daisy was breathless. She wasn't dreaming! Jess was here! This was his voice, his laughter, his eyes sparkling like they used to before he got hurt. And his tangled hair falling over his forehead! The short black beard that had sprouted overnight gave his face that daring look that she loved so well. His distinctive features were shining with mischief and with the good humored smile she'd been afraid she might never see again.

"Dear God… I...I...you.. You're really here!" Tears of joy flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she grasped his face with both hands and stroked the dark strands of hair from his forehead. "I..I..can't… Oh, God! It is so good to have you back, my dear, dear boy!" She clung to him. "Hold me tight!" she begged him. "I want to know it's really you!" She could feel his arms around her, the warmth and strength of his body, but she was still so shocked she couldn't take it in. She was afraid he might disappear like a soap bubble bursting. Jess drew back and kissed her on the forehead. "Dear God, what a wonderful moment," she whispered, fighting to believe in the reality of his presence. "Welcome home, my boy."

"Thanks, Daisy," he said gently. "I'm glad to be here. It took me long enough."

"Let me look at you." She held him at arm's length, making Jess laugh at her detailed inspection.

"You found anything missin'?" His eyes were twinkling as he roguishly teased her. "As far as I can tell, everything is present and accounted for."

"Oh, you! You've scarcely arrived and you're already talking nonsense!" She hesitantly stroked his chest with her hand. "You...you look wonderful...but… How are you?"

"Just like I look!" he laughed. He took her hand and pressed in firmly against his shoulder. "I'm fine, Daisy."

"You're...you're completely well?"

"Yep! Fit as a fiddle!"

"Is that really true or are you just saying that to make me feel better?" she demanded in her no-nonsense voice.

"It's the truth!" he declared, wondering how come everybody was having trouble believing him. He hugged her again. "I'm really OK!"

Tears sprang to her eyes again. "Then you've done it, dear boy. Oh, thank, God. You've done it."

"Not just me, Daisy. I had a lot of help, most of all from you and Slim and Mike - and the doctors. I couldn't have done it by myself - and I sure couldn't have scared you like I did a minute ago!"

"Oh, you!" She reached up and tweaked him gently on the ear, tears still streaming down her face. "You haven't changed a bit! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

" _I_ almost had one when you started flinging that rolling pin around!" Slim said. He'd been watching the reunion with a happy smile on his face. "You ought to be more careful with that thing!"

"If you had helped me, I wouldn't have needed it!" she fussed but turned immediately back to Jess. "I want to hear all about it! You've been gone for so long!"

"There's not much to tell," he said, looking a little perplexed by her request.

"Well, of course there is!" Daisy declared. "Did they treat you well? What was the food like? Have you been eating properly?"

Jess laughed. Only Daisy would ask that question.

"Sure! They took good care of me. Liz was a great cook - almost as good as you."

"You can tell that by looking at him," Slim joked.

"Your face is fuller," Daisy said, stroking his cheek. "But when I think of how you looked when you left…"

"Don't think about that now!" He took her hand in his own and kissed it. "Not now. It's over."

She studied him intently again for a few minutes as if she were searching for hidden traces of illness, but she couldn't find any. His sapphire blue eyes were full of the warmth she loved and the color in his face was healthy from all the days he'd spent outside in the open mountain air of Colorado. With tears still in her eyes, she nodded. It wasn't easy for her to let go of all the bad memories she had about his injury and illness.

"I got something to show you if you can stop cryin'," Jess said, teasing her a little. He ran his thumb across her wet cheek to wipe the tears away and smiled at her. "Come on," he said, and with a look at Slim, he led her into the living room where he picked up his carpetbag and set on top of the table. When he opened it, a wrapped package tied with a big violet colored ribbon lay on top of everything else.

"This is for you, Daisy," Jess said, handing her the present.

"For me?" Daisy looked like a little girl who'd found a gift with her name on it beneath the Christmas tree. "Oh, you shouldn't have!"

"Yeah," Jess said, smiling at her. "For you - and everything that you did for me."

Daisy carefully opened the carefully wrapped present and lifted out a large piece of fine lace that filled the room with the scent of lavender when she unfolded it.

"It's...it's beautiful!" she stammered as she held it in front of her. "Thank you, Jess! It's exquisite! But it really…"

"...wasn't necessary. I know," he said. "The saleslady in Denver told me it's real Brussels' lace. Do you like it?" he asked, watching her as she threw the lovely cloth over her head. "You look like some kind of angel - just like you looked to me when I had that fever." When he reached out to straighten the lace on her hair, his eyes filled with warmth. "You know, I lost my own ma a long time ago but I found another one in you." He hugged her tightly again. "Thanks, Daisy. I missed you a lot!"

"I missed you, too!" she sighed, her head on his shoulder. "And I thank you - not just for this beautiful lace, but for the most wonderful gift of all - you! Home again and healthy! I was so afraid we were going to lose you…"

"Hey, now! That's over and ain't never goin' to happen again. Come over here and look at yourself in the mirror!"

Making a gallant effort to lighten the mood, she followed his lead and tried to admire herself in the mirror over the hall dresser. "This isn't knitting!" she exclaimed. "It's the finest lace I've ever seen!"

"What'd you know about that!" Jess said, rummaging around in his carpetbag again. He pulled out a small case that he held out to Slim.

"Come on, now, Jess!" Slim said. "You're taking things too far."

Jess held the small package out until his partner took it and opened it. A gold watch lay on a square of dark blue velvet. Slim stared at it, speechless for a moment. Confused, he looked at Jess and asked, "What's this for?"

"Go on," Jess said. "Open it up."

Frowning, Slim took the watch out of the box, snapped the lid open and saw the engraving on the inside of it. He held it closer so he could read the beautiful italicized writing. _"For my friend, Slim Sherman. I owe him my life. Jess Harper."_

Slim's jaw clenched. When he looked up, he seemed almost angry. "You don't owe me anything."

Jess met and squarely held Slim's gaze. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah - I do."

"I…" Still frowning, Slim looked down, biting his lips. Finally, he cleared his throat and raised his head. "Well, then…" His face filled with affection. "I'm with Daisy. Thank you. And not just for the watch. Thanks for coming home again, partner."

Jess flashed him a quick shy grin before he said, "I think we got a few more good years in us..." he stepped closer to Slim and touched his partner's shirt pocket, "...as long as we let the past be the past." He could feel the bullet beneath his fingers. "I hope we can do that."

A little embarrassed, Slim glanced down at his pocket and then at Jess. "Yeah, me too," he said.

Daisy watched this exchange with tears still streaming down her face, but she pulled her handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose, determined to do as Jess said - let the past be the past. "Good Heavens!," she said, drying her eyes. "Here I am standing around crying like a schoolgirl when I know you must be hungry after your long trip. How about some breakfast, Jess?"

Jess laughed. "Daisy, that's what I've been waitin' to hear."

"Bacon and eggs and hot coffee coming up!" Daisy declared with her chin up. She was smiling bravely even though she was finding it hard to let go of the chronic anxiety and sorrow of the last nine months.

"Just look at his face!" Slim teased Jess. "We don't have to worry about his appetite!"

"He should still gain a few pounds," Daisy said with maternal concern. "And it's a good sign that he's hungry!"

"Oh, I don't know about that." Slim patted Jess' abdomen. "That waistband looks a little tight."

"Hands of the merchandise!" Jess objected. "These are brand new clothes, you know!"

"Oh, you two boys…" Daisy shook her head at their banter. She took the delicate lace off and put it back in the box, but as she disappeared into the kitchen, she called back to Jess. "After you've eaten, I want you to tell me all about it!".

"There ain't that much to tell," Jess said again, this time as an aside to Slim. He pulled off his new coat and loosened his tight waistband. "Besides, I want to scrub some of this road dirt off of me. I feel like I got grit on my teeth."

"You're not getting finicky, are you?" Slim teased.

"What'd you mean? That stagecoach was dusty! And," he said with a certain amount of slyness, "Tyler said I'm supposed to take care of myself."

"I hope you do!" Slim said seriously. "What did he really tell you?"

"Not much. He said to be careful at first - no heavy work - and to see Dan once a month. He wants me to come back to Colorado Springs in six months so he can check me out."

"You're going to do what he told you to, right?"

"Yeah," Jess said. "I'm going to do what he told me to. I'm going to try, anyway."

"I'll make sure you do. I don't want to go through what we've been through again."

"No argument there."

"You got any pain anymore?"

"Not as long as I don't overdo it."

"What about the cough?"

"It's gone - but I can't catch a cold."

"That means no more all-nighters in the rain. Think you can do that?"

"Once I make up my mind about something, I can be pretty stubborn."

"Like I don't know that."

"I mean it, Slim. It's a miracle I lived through this - and I got a scar on my chest to remind me of that every day. And I got people who care about me and were there when I needed them - you being the main one. I won't throw that away if I can help it."

Slim gripped his shoulder. "We take a lot of things for granted until we almost lose them. I'm damned glad you're home, partner."

Jess ducked his head. "Me, too," he said with a smile on his face that was both sweet and a little bit shy.

Daisy's voice interrupted them. "Jess!" she called from the kitchen. "Come on now! Your breakfast is ready. While you're eating, I'll heat up some water you can have a bath."

Jess grinned at Slim. "This is the best service west of the Tetons!"

Slim slapped his partner's shoulder and shoved him toward the kitchen before turning to go outside to finish morning chores. "Enjoy it while you can, partner!" he joked. "You got a lot of work to catch up on!"

Jess walked into the kitchen rubbing his hands in anticipation. "Liz was a good cook, Daisy," he said, "but she's no match for you!"

"I'm just glad she took care of you." She'd cleared a spot on the table for Jess to sit down, watching as he dug into his food.

"She did a good job doing that. Otherwise, I'd be a couple of pounds lighter."

"I'm afraid you must have looked very thin to her."

"I guess I was pretty scrawny," he admitted and then changed the subject. "How come you got all this stuff everywhere?" he asked. "Looks like a tornado hit the place."

"Well, if I had known you were coming home today, I would have postponed cleaning out the cabinets! But I wasn't expecting you for another four hundred and thirty-two hours."

"Say that again?" Jess said, looking up at her.

Daisy laughed. "Mike has calculated how long it would be until you came home at the end of June. He announces it every morning at breakfast."

"Dadgum!" Jess shook his head. "He'll have to do some re-figuring now."

"The minute he sees you, he'll forget all about it."

Jess wiped his mouth, suddenly eager to finish his meal. "I think I'll ride into town and pick him up at school."

"That will make him one happy boy!" Daisy said with another surge of joy when she pictured their reunion.

"It'll make me happy, too! How 'bout I keep him in town for a while? We'll be home by suppertime."

"That's a good idea! I'll have time to make a special "welcome home' meal for all of us!"

"Don't go to any trouble on my account!"

"You just make sure you get home on time, or all you'll get is leftovers!" she teased.

"I been home for less than an hour and you're already bossin' me around!" Jess teased back.

"Well, somebody has to be in charge of you boys!" she smiled, delighted that the job belonged to her.

After downing another cup of coffee and a couple more corn muffins, Jess helped Daisy fill the tub on the floor in the laundry room Slim had added to the kitchen several years ago. A little while later, Daisy tapped on the door, and when Jess told her to come in, she entered with an armful of fresh towels. He was standing shirtless in front of the mirror, shaving. The scar on his chest with its lingering faint reddish outline was visible to her when he turned toward her, wiping the soap off his face.

"Oh, Jess...," she said, setting the towels on one of the shelves and coming closer to him. She reached out to touch his left shoulder, inspecting it with the expertise of a nurse mingled with the pain of a mother's sorrow. "Does it hurt you at all?"

"No, Daisy," he said, "Not at all."

"It's healed up so well," she said, looking at him to make sure he was telling her the truth, "but when I see it…" Her face nearly crumpled into tears again.

"I'll make sure I cover it up when you're around!" Jess said, grabbing the blue shirt he was going to wear to town.

"I didn't mean that! I'll never forget what happened whether I see that scar or not! I just need to know you're completely well."

Jess buttoned up the shirt and stuffed it into his pants. "I'll keep it out of sight until you do."

"Don't worry about me! If I know you're fine, I'll be fine." She smiled lovingly at him and brushed his cheek. "You know I feel like I'm you're my own boy and I'm your mother."

He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. "Now I feel like I'm really home. Sometimes I feel like you know me better than I know myself."

"Better than you want me to?" she asked cautiously.

He met her eyes, acknowledging how important she was to him. "No," he said, "you knowin' me is just fine with me. There ain't no point in pretendin' you don't."

"Then you'll believe me when I tell you that you still need to gain another fifteen or twenty pounds!"

"Since I'll be eatin' your cookin' you don't have to worry about that - especially since I'm supposed to being takin' it easy."

"You? Taking it easy? You surely don't expect me to believe you'll actually do that!"

"Well, you ought'a!"

"Then you've changed a lot in Colorado Springs!"

"Nah…" he said, "maybe it's what I…" He veered off before he said "went through" and changed it to, "...experienced there."

"I know you were starting to say 'went through'," Daisy said, searching his face. His silence proved her right. "Jess, for my sake, please don't pretend your stay there was just an enjoyable holiday. I know it wasn't. I know why Slim hurried off to be with you after you wrote that letter...even before the telegram came…" She stopped herself, realizing she was reopening the wound. "I'm sorry!" she said, clasping her hands and shaking them in frustration. "I didn't mean… I just wanted you to realize… I mean, you don't have to gloss over things with me. I was there when Doctor Higgins…. Oh, why don't I stop!" she cried, angry with herself over her steady lament. "Why can't I stop?"

"Calm down, Daisy," Jess said, hugging her. "You know what?" He held her away to look at her. "If you won't start carryin' on, I promise I won't pretend the sun's shinin' when it's rainin' outside. OK?"

"And I'm supposed to believe that?"

He looked at her steadily for a moment. There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes that changed into a smile before he spoke a single word with such spontaneity and sincerity it was impossible for Daisy to doubt the truth of it.

"No!" he said.

END OF CHAPTER 42


	43. Chapter 43

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 43

For the first time in nearly ten months, Jess was on a horse. He felt great about it. He was riding Traveler to Laramie and on the way, he planned to meet Charlie. The hired hand was working on a fence not far from the road to town.

Before Jess saddled up, Slim predicted that every bone in his partner's body would be hurting by the time he got home. Jess was determined to prove him wrong. Traveler had a smooth gait and riding him was usually like riding a rocking chair, but today, after ten months of freedom, the spirited animal had tried to assert his own will when Jess first mounted him. Jess quickly regained the upper hand. Now, as the brown gelding trotted across a fallow pasture, the grass rose almost to his flanks. It tickled his belly a little. Both he and his rider were enjoying themselves.

Like the others at the ranch, Charlie didn't expect Jess to come home before the end of the month. He had no idea who was riding toward him through the grass. As a precaution, he took off his work gloves and edged closer to the Winchester that was holstered in the saddle of his nearby horse.

The rider was armed. He rode up to the fence Charlie was working on like he owned the place. Sliding off the gelding with the grace of a puma, he stuck out his hand to the hired man and said, "Howdy. You must be Charlie Grover. I'm Jess Harper."

With a sigh of relief, Charlie grabbed the extended hand and shook it hard. "So you're Jess Harper!" he exclaimed. "I'm mighty glad to meet you! But I thought you wouldn't be home until the end of the month."

"I got lucky," Jess said. He took in Charlie with a glance and liked him immediately. He knew a hard working cowboy when he saw one. He pushed his broad brimmed Stetson back on his head and gazed at the pasture stretched out in front of him. A few strands of black hair fell over his forehead, giving him a roguish, boyish look. "This is good work," he said with satisfaction.

"I like it. The whole fence has almost been replaced."

"That's what Slim told me. Now that I'm back, we can finish it in a hurry."

"I'll be sorry to leave the place," Charlie said. "The food's good and the folks here have been real good to me." He pulled his gloves back on. "I'll finish up what I'm doing here and pick up my wages."

"Hold on a minute! I didn't say anything about you leavin'."

"Well, I just thought since…"

"As far as I'm concerned, you're stayin'. We're goin' after that extra land, and we're goin' to need the help."

"You're saying I can stay?"

"As long as you can put up with me."

"I only heard good things about you. Slim talks about you like you're his brother. And that boy of yours thinks the world of you. He described you to a tee."

"You can't believe everything you hear," Jess joked.

"He was real worried about you. Slim told me what happened to you - that it was touch and go for a long time."

"I got lucky," Jess repeated.

"Well, I'm glad you're back."

"Yeah, me too. The doc told me to go light on work and heavy on food." He patted his still thin midsection. "Daisy's cookin' will take care of that."

Charlie laughed. Jess seemed in good spirits even after his long ordeal - and he was easy to talk to. Charlie felt like he'd known him for a long time. "Daisy'll do that for sure," he said. "She's the best cook I know of."

Jess grinned. "She told me to tell you to be on time for dinner tonight whether you still got work to do or not."

"Something special about today?"

"Me! She's tryin' to fatten me up."

"OK, then! I'll be there with bells on! Thanks, Mr. Harper."

With his hands on his hips, Jess shook his head and looked down. "If you want to stay on, Charlie," he said, "there's somethin' you got to do."

"What would that be?" Charlie asked cautiously, feeling disappointed. Maybe Harper wasn't as nice as he seemed to be.

"Well, if you really want to keep workin' for us…," Jess flashed a grin and looked up at him, "you got to quit callin' me Mr. Harper. It's Jess. Think you can remember that?"

Charlie's face lit up. He felt like he'd won the lottery. "You bet - Jess!"

Jess reached for Traveler's leather reins and swung into the saddle with a graceful ease that impressed even an experienced ranch hand like Charlie. "You need anything from town?" Jess asked him.

"No. But thanks for asking."

Jess settled his Stetson on his head. "See you later," he said and turned Traveler toward town.

At the crest of the hill just before the road dipped toward Laramie, Jess reined Traveler to a stop. Below stretched the open plain where Laramie's houses and shops clustered around the Union Pacific Railroad like a grape on a vine before the tracks wandered westward. Jess paused, taking in the view. The grass was still fresh and green, unburnt by the early summer sun. In the distance, silhouettes of rugged mountain peaks stretched upwards against a steel-blue sky.

Jess breathed deeply, relishing his ability to do that simple thing. The scent of sage that filled the air delighted him. He'd been in Laramie for almost nine years, but today it seemed like he was seeing its wild beauty for the first time. When he'd left for Colorado Springs, he'd been sure he would never see the town or the people who lived here again. As a salute, he stood tall in the stirrups and took another look around before sinking back into the saddle with a satisfied sigh. Then he tapped Traveler on his sides with his boot heels and cheerfully cantered down the road.

Ten minutes later, he reached the outskirts of Laramie. He felt the impulse to ride through the streets firing his gun and hooting and hollering at the top of his voice the way he used to come racing into a cattle town with the other cowboys after a long drive, but the inferno he'd just been through tempered his exuberance. As he jogged down the main street, he decided that the first person he wanted to surprise with his early return was Doctor Higgins. He was his doctor, his friend and above the one who first saved his life with his surgical skills.

After a celebratory visit to the doctor, Jess took Traveler with him to see the blacksmith Emerson Pierce. The six and a half-foot man almost dropped his hammer into the smithy-fire when he saw him, but then, setting the hammer down, he used his gigantic hand to pummel Jess around in a joyous welcome, making it clear how happy he was to see the man from the Sherman Ranch again.

Leaving Traveler with Pierce, Jess headed for the bank, but it took him longer to get there than he thought it would. People along the way recognized him and stopped him to shake his hand, to welcome him home, to ask about his health and to tell him they looked forward to seeing him around town now that he had recovered from his injury.

When he finally got to the bank, he received an effusive welcome from Lincoln Majors. Jess accepted it good-naturedly because of the banker's heartfelt joy about his return to good health. In turn, Jess expressed his sincere thanks to Majors for the financial support that made his long stay at Colorado Springs possible. Majors assured him that it was the best investment he'd ever made. On behalf of the city council and the entire community, he officially welcomed Jess back to Laramie after such a long time away and told him that he was very glad to see him in such excellent condition. Financing his hospital stay was the least the town could do to repay his invaluable service in preventing a robbery that would have ruined the bank. Majors ended the conversation by cordially assuring Jess that he would be glad to work with him and Slim to close the deal on the land option they were interested in obtaining. Before Jess left, he made an appointment to meet with both ranchers in the coming week.

After leaving the bank, Jess walked over to the post office to pick up some Overland Stage receipts Slim wanted him to get from Arthur Kellington. The rancher had added an ironic "Good luck" to his request, knowing how much Jess disliked having to visit the manager in his elaborate office. Slim's wish was granted because the clerk told Jess that Kellington was away on business. However, the receipts were available if Jess wanted to take them with him. This suited him fine. He had better things to do today than putting up with Kellington's palaver.

Before he walked out of the post office, Jess glanced at the big clock hanging on the back wall and realized he had time to go by Mort Corey's office before he went to meet Mike at school. He couldn't stay long, but he could ask him to come to lunch with him and Mike. That would give them plenty of time to catch up.

When he got to the sheriff's office, he was disappointed to find that the door was locked. Mort must be making the rounds or was already at lunch. Or maybe he was inside, sleeping off a rough night in one of the jail cells. Jess shaded his eyes with both hands to peer through the glass to see if he could spot any sign of Mort when a hard round object bored into his back. He froze. In the reflection in the window, he could only make out the shape of a man with a hat on. Maybe it was one of the deputies who had mistaken him for somebody on a wanted poster. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

" _Not again_ ," he thought, more resigned than alarmed and raised his hands by his head to signal surrender. There was no reason to create a ruckus. As soon as Mort got back, things would be cleared up.

END OF CHAPTER 43


	44. Chapter 44

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 44

When Mort Corey made his midday rounds of the town, he passed by the blacksmith shop, but he usually didn't stop to talk with Emerson. Today, though, his eye was caught by a horse tethered at the fence of the corral connected to Pierce's workshop. The horse wore a saddle and bridle and stood on three legs. He was hanging his head over the top of the fence as if it were too heavy for him.

The animal seemed familiar to the sheriff. From the street, he couldn't see the white mark on the horse's dark forehead, but when he walked closer, he recognized the saddle. As he approached, the horse lifted his head expectantly, stood up on all four legs and chewed on the bit in his mouth. Mort ran his hand over the croup and examined the branding.

"There it is…," he said out loud as he spotted the intertwined "SR", the brand of the Sherman Ranch. He looked at the saddle more closely. Near the front, he saw Jess Harper's initials, and he knew for sure who the horse belonged to. From Traveler's moist flanks, he also knew it had been ridden just a little while ago.

"Pierce!" he shouted, turning to go inside the workshop. "Are you here?"

The blacksmith had already gone home for lunch, but Corey didn't really need him to confirm the horse's owner. Having no doubt his friend would come by to see him, he headed back to his office to wait for Jess, lengthening his stride in his hurry to get there. He'd just rounded the corner when he saw Jess coming out of the post office heading toward the office. Mort hung back so his friend wouldn't see him, plotting how to turn the tables on him. This time it would be Jess who was surprised.

Mort noted with great satisfaction that Jess was in great physical shape, a little thin maybe but his color was good. He seemed to be his old self, moving with the energetic grace that fascinated Mort and that he thought he might never see again.

Mort knew he had to be careful for his plan to work. Jess might be distracted by the closed door and the empty office, but he was Jess Harper, and he was wearing a gun. Ignoring the strange looks from people on the street, he crept toward the office and silently tiptoed to stand behind him. Then he rammed his outstretched finger into his back. It tickled the sheriff to see the way Jess jerked and instantly raised his hands. The mumbled curse he heard coming from his pleased him even more.

"Got you, you rascal!" Mort tried to sound serious, but he gave himself away by starting to laugh.

Jess let a breath of relief. "Mort!" It sounded almost like a sigh. He lowered his arms and turned around. "I should've known."

"Welcome, home, you son of a gun!" Mort grabbed Jess' hand and joyfully shook his hand. "It's good to see you, boy! What're you doing home so early? Did they kick you out?"

Jess laughed. How much Mort had missed that sound! The warmth of it ran over him like a summer breeze. It proved that Jess was well again and back to his old self.

"Nah," he said, giving Mort an affectionate punch on the chest. "They let me go. I got papers to prove it."

"So…" Mort looked as if he couldn't quite believe it, "...you're as healthy as you look?"

"Sure!"

"No cough? No pain?"

"Nope!" Jess spread his arms out to meet Mort's inspection.

Mort grabbed him on the shoulder again as if he needed to touch him to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Damn, Jess!" he said. "Slim said you were hanging on by a hair. How did you do it?"

"With a lot of help - from Slim and Tyler, mostly."

"You're still a might scrawny. I almost broke my finger on a rib when I poked you."

"Serves you right for scaring the bejeebers out of me!"

"It was worth it. Come on in for some coffee," Mort said, fumbling with his keys.

"Can't do it today, Mort. I'm goin' over to the school to pick up Mike when he gets out."

"Does he know you're here?"

"Not yet. I came in on an overnight stage because of the landslide on the tracks."

"I heard about that. Well, Mike's going to have a real nice surprise."

"Yeah. I don't want to miss him. How about meetin' us at the hotel for lunch."

"Sure thing! I'll go over there with you now and save us a table."

As Jess and Mort walked toward the hotel, Jess told him about Daisy's reaction to the trick he'd played her this morning and Mort told him that his deputy Clem had married his long-time sweetheart, Jennifer, and was away on his honeymoon. Before Mort turned to go into the hotel, he let Jess know that there would be a dance there Saturday night.

"Oh, yeah?" Jess said.

"I just thought you might be interested. You know…since you're going over to the school house. Miss Finch has been mighty worried about you."

"You playing matchmaker?" Jess said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Who me?" Of course not! I just thought you might be interested. She likes you a lot, you know."

"Aw…,go on, Mort," Jess waved him away and shook his head, amused. Miss Finch didn't seem to like him much at all... but he might have missed something. He'd had too many other problems to think about things like that.

But maybe Mort was right. Anna Marie Finch was a pretty woman, a little reserved maybe, an independent type, but she had a softness in her, too. Jess' dismissive grin gradually evolved into a thoughtful smile. _"Hmm,_ "he thought, _"...if I get the chance to bring it up…"_ and somehow he knew he would, _"...she might make a good dance partner."_

Five minutes later, Jess arrived at the small enclosed pasture where the ponies were kept during school hours. Browny was grazing on some tall grass near the fence. He paid no attention to Jess who wasn't interested in him either. Instead, Jess retrieved the pony's bridle that was hanging on the fence post. He nimbly unfastened the bit and threw the bitless bridle back over the post. Then he pulled the beautiful hand-braided bridle he made in Colorado Springs out of a pocket in his jacket and attached the metal mouth piece to it. He made a final check to make sure his handiwork was secure and fit properly on Browny's head before he hid the horsehair bridle in his jacket again. Satisfied, he walked over to the schoolhouse where he stood with his back against the wall near the door so Mike wouldn't see him when he first came outside.

As soon as the school bell rang, Miss Finch opened the door and a bunch of yelling, screaming children poured out of it. Mike wasn't one of them. None of the rowdy students noticed Jess - but Miss Finch saw him. Her hands flew to her face and she held her breath to stop her shout of joy.

Jess gave her a friendly nod, but there was an appreciative gleam in his eyes as he noticed how pretty she. Silky piles of dark brown hair framed a face that was flushed with the excitement of seeing him again. Miss Finch waited until all the children left the building before she slowly walked toward him. She forced herself to stop a few feet away from him instead of flinging her arms around his neck like she wanted to. Jess' face lit up with the pleasure of her - but he restrained himself, too. He whisked his hat off and took the small hand she held out for to him to shake.

"Mr. Harper!" she said, her voice shaky. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Mornin', Miss Finch!" He held her hand longer than necessary. She didn't seem to mind. "You're lookin' mighty fine today!" he said, feeling a little embarrassed himself.

"Thank you - but it's only because I'm so happy to see you again." Her eyes were bright as she lifted her face to his. "You look so well. I hope you are."

"Sure am!"

"Thank God!" Her hand tightened around his again before she finally released him. "You can't imagine…" She didn't want him to know how hard her heart was racing. "You must have been very ill. Mike was so worried about you. So was I."

"Thanks…," his throat had suddenly gone dry, "...but you shouldn't of been worryin' about me."

She met his vivid blue eyes. There was something sweetly charming about him as stood clinging to his hat. He was turning it around in front of him, acting for all the world as if he were a little nervous. She began to take pleasure in the pounding of her heart and no longer minded if he knew about it.

"I did worry about you," she said. "I was so afraid… I don't want to think about how ill you were."

"Then don't." His resonant voice was as soft as velvet.

She searched his face with its mixture of strength and gentleness for any sign of the terrible illness he'd suffered but found no trace of his ordeal. Even his eyes, those changeable windows of his intriguing soul, showed no sign of the sadness she'd seen in them before. Her face transformed from reserve to radiate joy.

Jess couldn't figure out if her smile was in response to what he'd said or her intense study of his face. Whatever caused it, it felt good to him. He was powerfully attracted to her combination of petite femininity, mystifying composure and frankness.

"Have you been back long?" she asked before her attraction to him became embarrassing.

"Since this morning."

"Does Mike know you're here?"

"No. He thinks I'll be here in…" he grinned, "...about four hundred and thirty-two hours."

"What do you mean?" she asked, relaxing a little.

"He figured out the time from my last letter when I told him I'd be home at the end of June."

"No wonder he's been so excited!" she said, laughing. "I haven't seen him so happy in a long time!"

"Where is he?"

"You might not believe it - or maybe you will. He's gotten himself on clean-up duty again. I'll go see what taking him so long."

"Don't go to any trouble."

"It's no trouble - but I would like to hear more about what your plans are now that you're well and home again."

 _"_ _Is that a hint?"_ Jess thought and decided that his opportunity had arrived. "Uh, Miss Finch... Anna!" he called after as she turned to go back into the schoolhouse. When she looked back, he said, "Maybe we could catch up on Saturday."

"Saturday?" she asked, responding to him like a fish falling in love with the bait.

"Yeah. There's a dance at the hotel. If you got nothing else to do, you could go with me."

Miss Finch wondered if Jess realized that he'd turned his hat around in his hand at least a dozen times. This tiny sign of awkwardness enchanted her. "I...I would like that… Very much!"

"I'll pick you up," he said, keeping his eyes on her face with its shining brown eyes. "About seven. Is that OK?"

"Seven o'clock! That will be fine!"

Jess smiled. "See you Saturday, then," he said.

"Until Saturday!" she repeated smiling back at him. With a flip of her skirt, she turned and hurried back inside the building to see what was keeping Mike. She needed to escape the sudden heat that clearly wasn't caused by the lovely early summer weather.

For a few seconds, Jess stood motionless, entranced. She left behind a trace of fragrance, light and clean and spicy, a freshness he needed after wrangling ornery cows and horses in the sweaty heat and grim all day.

"...'til Saturday," he murmured softly as she left. All of a sudden he realized he was clinging to his hat and staring after her like a sixteen-year-old who had a crush on his teacher. Then, he thought of Molly who was a good friend - but nothing more. Miss Finch was different. A warm tingling sensation throbbed through his body, and he actually rubbed his chest to get his heart to slow down. He'd never reacted to Molly like that. He breathed deeply and put his Stetson back on his head, pushing it down tight so it wouldn't get swept away by the storm he felt brewing inside.

Mike's voice shouting goodbye to his teacher distracted Jess from these enticing sensations and reminded him that, for the moment, there were more important things to think about than Miss Finch. The boy tore out of the schoolhouse door and raced by Jess without seeing him in his rush to get to Browny. Jess watched him, smiling, and suppressed a laugh when Mike found the bitless bridle on the fence post.

"Dadgum it!" he heard the boy exclaim angrily. "I'm going to pound whoever did this!" He flapped the straps toward Browny who, unimpressed by his owner's rantings, shook his head and buried his nose back in the lush grass. This made Mike even madder. "I wouldn't be surprised if somebody threw the bit in the grass and you ate it! I hope it broke your teeth, you stupid horse!"

He made a furious search of the surrounding pasture without finding the bit anywhere. He studied the bridle again, wondering if there was anything could use as a substitute. Nothing occurred to him. He knew he could ride Browny without the bit, but he was attached to his property and didn't want to abandon it.

"Somebody's just been mean," he said miserably and kicked at the tufts of grass, hoping the bit would still show up but it didn't.

As he searched the ground, the summer sun warmed his back. Suddenly, he noticed that a second shadow, larger than his, appeared near his own. It wasn't Miss Finch. She didn't wear a wide-brimmed hat and she never wore pants like a man. Even before Mike could turn around to see who had come to help him, a familiar voice asked, "You lookin' for somethin', cowboy?"

Mike was so frightened he let the bridle fall from his hand. He didn't dare turn around because he thought it might be a ghost standing behind him.

"I…." He swallowed silently, afraid to speak. Then he remembered ghosts couldn't cast a shadow. "Je… Jess?" He jerked around before this wonderful apparition, whatever or whoever it was, would dissolve before he saw it with his own eyes. "Jess!" he yelled when he saw him and jumped into his arms. This was no ghost but his very own foster father who picked him up and whirled around with him, squeezing him so tightly he couldn't breathe for a moment. "Jess!" he shouted again when he got his breath and wrapped his arms around his foster father's neck. "You're here! You're really here! You're really back!"

Browny lifted his head and looked at them as if he were thinking, _"These people are crazy."_ Then he went back to the succulent grass he couldn't resist.

From the window of her small office, Miss Finch was also watching them, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. She'd rarely witnessed so much happiness displayed for all to see. Jess and Mike didn't seem to care what might be going on around them or what anyone seeing their joyful reunion might think.

Mike wrapped his arms around Jess and looked up at him with eyes that shone brighter than the summer sun. He would have shouted with happiness, but his foster gripped him hard and swung him around again with breathtaking exuberance. When he set him down, the boy began to realize that Jess was strong again. He looked as healthy as he had before he was so badly wounded. Nothing in his familiar, beloved face showed any hint of his terrible illness.

Jess noticed that Mike was studying him intently. "What is it?" Jess said with a laugh, ruffling the boy's hair. "You're lookin' at me like I was a ghost."

"I can't grab a ghost the way I can grab you!" Mike squeezed him as hard as he could. "I'm not hurting you at all, am I?"

"Nope! It doesn't hurt anymore. Not unless you break a rib with that grip you got, Tiger."

"You're really OK? Really?"

"Sure thing, Mike. I'm alright now."

"I'm so glad," Mike sighed and wrapped his arms tightly around Jess, pressing his face against him. "I missed you a lot."

"I missed you, too. Sometimes, I wasn't sure if…" He stopped and hugged Mike hard. "I'm glad to have _you_ back."

"You won't have to leave again will you?"

"Not because of my health. I hope that won't ever happen again."

"I don't want you ever to be sick again! Never! Never!"

"Don't worry, Tiger." Jess lovingly rummaged back and forth in the boy's hair, a touch that Mike had missed so much. "Real bad things - even real good things - usually don't repeat themselves." Taking a deep breath, Jess held Mike at arm's length so he could take a good look at him. "How much did you grow since I been gone?"

"A lot!" Mike shouted. "This much!" He measured off an inch or so with his fingers.

"Before long you're going' to be taller than me! Then you'll be the one swingin' _me_ around!"

Mike immediately grabbed him and tried to do that very thing. He didn't have the strength to budge him, much less lift him off of the ground, but he felt something bulky under Jess' jacket. "What's that?" he asked, running his hand over the irregular bulge.

"Hands off!" Jess teased. "It's a secret!"

Mike scowled. "It's not a bandage, is it?"

"Nope."

"Word of honor?"

"Word of honor." Jess turned toward Browny. "What were you lookin' for out there before I got here?"

Mike bent down to pick up the bridle he'd dropped in the grass. "This!" He held the bridle up for Jess to see. "Can you believe it? Somebody was so mean! They stole the bit! If I could catch who did it…"

"Well, what'd you know?" Jess' eyebrows went up like he was surprised. "Somebody did steal your bit!" He fumbled under his jacket and pulled out the artfully braided horsehair bridle with Mike's bit attached. "Maybe this will work," he said, smiling.

"Wow!" Mike cried. "Is...is that...for...me?" He was too overwhelmed to touch the beautiful gift.

"Sure is!" Jess grinned with delight at Mike's opened mouth astonishment. "Here. Take it. It's yours."

"Thank you!" Mike exclaimed, his eyes wide and bright as he gingerly reached out for filigreed, handcrafted treasure. He ran his fingers over it, enthralled. "Oh, boy! This is great! Thank you, Jess!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"Did you make it?"

"Yep."

"That must have been a lot of work!"

"I had a lot of spare time."

"It's beautiful!" Mike's young face grew solemn. "But…you know what's even more beautiful?"

"What? That you found your bit?"

"No! That you're home! And well! That's the most beautiful present of all."

Jess' face softened. "Thanks, Mike." He ruffled the boy's hair again. "That's a gift to me, too. The best one ever." He gazed down at his foster son for a moment. A warm smile played on his face and radiated from his eyes as he reached out to stroke Mike's cheek. "So…." Lighting up with boyish anticipation, he changed the subject. "Let's try out this thing on Browny and make sure it fits."

Browny reared his head as the bridle slipped over it, not liking the bit as much as the sweet grass he'd been eating but once it was on, he seemed to preen a little bit as if he knew he were wearing a fine work of art.

"It looks great on him!" Mike cried.

"Sure does! And the fit's good."

"That's because you made it!"

Forgetting about the grass, Browny nodded as if in agreement.

"I think he likes it," Jess said, pleased.

Mike pointed his finger at Browny. Sounding like Slim at his bossiest, he told the pony, "You better not let anything happen to that bridle!" Browny was not very impressed by this and gave the boy a playful shove. Mike grabbed the bridle again to hold the horse still and looked over his shoulder at Jess. "I like it a whole lot!" he exclaimed. "But not as much as I like you!"

"Just wait, Tiger," Jess said, a mischievous smile crossing his face.

"Don't tell me I'll like a girl more when I grow up!"

Jess laughed loud enough that the sound rang out all over the schoolyard. Miss Finch heard it through the open window in her office. Even Browny raised his head and cocked his ears.

"Why not?" Jess asked, still smiling. "You already got one?"

"Oh, you…" Mike charged him, pounding him joyfully with his fists until Jess grabbed him and dropped to the ground with him in his arms, both of them laughing uproariously.

Smiling and wiping away tears at the same time, Miss Finch had watched the entire reunion from her office window. _"What a wonderful man,"_ she thought, fascinated by Jess. _"He's fought a battle with life and death, and here he is rolling around in the grass with a little boy as if evil had never touched him."_ She felt a warm glow in her heart and came to the conclusion she was about to fall in love. Maybe she already had - but she knew she must wait for him to come to her - and that she had to win Mike's heart, too.

"Simmer down, Tiger," she heard Jess laughingly plead with Mike. His voice also pulled her out of her daydream. She hastily withdrew from the window, thinking maybe she was getting too carried away by her hopes for the future.

Out in the pasture, Mike was still full of energy. "You giving up already?" he cried and gleefully assaulted Jess again.

Jess took him for another roll in the grass. Then in one nimble movement, he jumped to his feet and swept his hat off of the ground. "You hungry?" he asked, clamping his Stetson on his head.

"I'm always hungry! You know that!" Mike did a last somersault and ran to Jess' side. "I hope Miss Finch didn't see us rolling around in the grass."

"Would you care?"

Mike looked up at him with narrowed eyes and upturned nose. "Only if you did."

"You think I ought'a care?"

"Maybe." Mike looked away, hesitating. Then he looked back, his face serious. "I think she's been real worried."

"Have you been givin' her a hard time?"

"No! She was worried about you! Not me!"

"About me?"

"Yeah! Don't you know that?"

"Well, maybe…"

"She likes you, Jess. Really likes you. Don't you like her?"

Jess gave him a speculative look. "Do you like her?"

"I guess so," Mike answered, looking cagey. "I told you I thought she was nice."

"You, rascal, you!" Jess ruffled the boy's hair again and hugged him. "What're you up to? Matchmakin'?"

"What does that mean?"

"You know what it means!" Jess laughed at his pretended innocence. "You know I like a lot of women."

"That's great! I was kind of afraid you might not like her. Or maybe you didn't know she liked you. She likes me, too."

"Sounds like you're ready to set the weddin' date!"

"Is it too soon to do that?"

"Way too soon. Good things take time, Tiger. A man needs to be sure he makes that kind of decision."

"You mean you're not sure?"

"I ain't had much time to think about it, Mike. I been too busy with other things - gettin' well mostly. I got a lot of things to take care of first - gettin' to know Miss Finch better is one of 'em. But the first one is food! I'm starvin'! Come on, let's go. Mort's probably sittin' on hot coals waitin' for us."

"The sheriff is waiting for us?

"Yeah. At the hotel." Jess picked up the old bridle and handed it to Mike. "Take this with you," he said. "You can still use it."

"Thanks. I forgot about it."

Mike took the old bridle and grabbed Browny's reins, tugging on them to get the pony to follow him. Together the boy, the pony, and Jess strolled leisurely back toward the center of town.

"Are we going to eat lunch in town?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. Daisy's at home cookin' up somethin' special for tonight and she wants us out of the house until then."

"Great! Can I drive the wagon on the way home? Where did you leave it?"

"At the ranch."

"At the ranch?" Mike looked incredulously at him.

"How do you think I got to town?"

"With the wagon!" the boy shouted, slightly outraged by the question.

"Nope. I rode Traveler."

"Really? Where is he?"

"At the blacksmith shop gettin' some new shoes."

"Great! We can race! Yippee!"

"Maybe. But the main thing I want to do is ride out to the Minarrow land down by the river that me and Slim are lookin' at." Jess ran his hand quickly over the boy's blond head. "But right now, let's go get somethin' to get before Mort arrests us for lettin' him wait so long."

END OF CHAPTER 44


	45. Chapter 45

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 45

That afternoon, Mike and Jess rode side by side through the tall grass of the Mirarrow bottom land that stretched out to the river, a river that ran with water even in the summer time.

"This is good land," Jess said, looking around with satisfaction. "The river will solve our water problem and the pastures have plenty of winter grazing."

"Is it all ours now?" Mike asked, impressed by the wide, fallow grassland.

"Not yet but if everything goes OK we'll sign the contract on Friday morning and then get it entered it into the Land Register. Once we do that, it'll be ours."

"Our ranch will be huge!"

"It'll be big, alright. We won't have to buy winter feed. It'll be a lot more work, though."

Down by the river, they dismounted and let the horses drink out of the clear shallows.

"Charlie will help us," Mike said, a little tentatively.

"Yeah. I met him this morning."

"Did you like him?"

"He seemed OK."

"Can he stay?"

"Sure. We need him. Why wouldn't he stay?" They sat down on the trunk of an uprooted tree that was lying on the soft ground by the river. It had been blown over in the last storm. The crown stretched far out into the water where its dying leaves danced in the current.

"It's just…" Mike was remembering his early troubles with Charlie. "You might not have liked him," he said, thinking about how he'd felt himself when he first met the ranch hand.

"Why wouldn't I like him? From what Slim's told me, he's a good hand."

"Jess…" Mike said slowly, watching the leaves twist and turn in the stream, "I...I. got to tell you something…"

"Sounds like you're about to make some kind of confession." Jess eyed him with a half-smile. "Did you give Slim a hard time while I was gone?"

"Nah, that's not it."

"Miss Finch didn't complain about your grades."

"No… That's not it." Mike shoved his hands under his thighs. He let his legs dangle off the tree trunk and stared down at his feet. "You know...it's...it's...about Charley."

"You been playin' tricks on him?"

"No… but… You're going to be mad when I tell you."

"How about I promise not to get mad?"

Mike shook his head. "It's just...it's.. I feel real bad about it."

Jess threw his arm over the boy's shoulder. "You do?"

Mike nodded hard a couple of times, still staring at his feet swinging back and forth under him.

Jess gave the boy a quick squeeze and said, "The faster you tell me about it, the faster you'll feel better. Is this about Charlie? You don't like him?"

"No! I like him a lot. It's...it's just something I thought about him...and Slim."

"Slim?" Jess said, acting like he didn't know anything about it. "What's Slim got to do with it?"

Mike gnawed at his lower lip. His legs swung faster and faster. He distracted himself by studying the mud on his boots.

"Come on, now," Jess said. "I ain't goin' to eat you no matter what it is."

"Well...you know…" Mike swiveled toward him and let it out, "...when you went away and Charlie came… Slim acted like he was mad all the time...but he was nice to Charlie and asked him to eat at the table… Well, because I thought he wasn't... that he wasn't your friend anymore because… I wasn't right about that, but…Slim and me talked. And... then I knew I was wrong. But, I was so sorry for you. You were so sick. And...I thought Slim wasn't...your friend anymore like he used to be. It was bad...but that's what I thought."

"You really thought Slim wasn't my friend anymore?"

"No...yes...but..but you hadn't been gone long…and… I don't know why I thought that! And...it made Slim feel bad and I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Jess!"

"Hey, Tiger, it's OK! We've all had a rough time. Folks can think all kinds of crazy things when things get bad. Feelin' sorry about somethin' we did when we were all mixed up means we know better now. We ain't likely to do it again."

"Did...did you already know about it?"

"Yeah. Slim told me when he came out to Colorado Springs last winter. He wasn't bothered about it and he sure as heck wasn't mad at you." Jess' voice lowered. "Slim and me have been friends for a long time. If it weren't for him…"

"Mike finished the sentence. "You wouldn't be here…" The boy's brown eyes met Jess' blue ones as they faced the terrible truth of how close to death Jess had come.

Pain flickered across Jess' face. He nodded. "You're right. I wouldn't be here."

"You must of been real sick."

"I was."

"Worse than when you left the ranch?"

Jess nodded again, his face grim.

"But what did Slim do that...that...kept you from…" He couldn't say the word.

Jess stroked Mike's hair then pulled him close, hurting inside for all the pain the boy had been through. _"He had worse than I did,"_ he thought, _"and I wasn't here to help him."_ Out loud he said, "It's kind of hard to explain. He was there to fight for me when I was so sick I couldn't fight for myself. He saved my life. Only Slim could've done that."

"I still don't understand…," Mike cocked his head to take a good look at Jess, "...but now I know Slim is your very best friend - and I'm sorry I thought bad things about him. Are you mad at me?"

"No, Mike. Just promise you won't start worryin' about whether me and Slim are friends again, OK?"

"I promise!" Mike vowed. "I'm glad you're not mad at me."

"What've I got to be mad about? I'm home!" He stood up and pulled Mike up with him. "Come on. We better head back to the ranch if we want to get some that good food Daisy is cookin' up."

"Like what?" Mike asked, relieved to have his confession behind him.

"I didn't ask, but I bet you'll like it."

"Daisy always makes apple pie. I think I can smell it from here."

"You probably can!" Jess laughed, glad to talk about happier things. "Your nose can pick up that trail from ten miles away."

"Aw, not that far. Five maybe," Mike said, climbing onto Browny as Jess swung up on Traveler's saddle. The boy kicked his pony into a run. "Race you to that tree!" he yelled, galloping away, clean of conscience at last and full of joy.

A little while later when they got back to the ranch, the first thing they saw was Charlie unsaddling his horse near the barn. The second thing they noticed made their mouth water. It was the smell of roasting beef wafting out of Daisy's kitchen window.

Charlie saw them coming and waved at them. He smiled when he saw Mike riding his pony exactly like Jess rode Traveler. His foster father had taught him well.

As soon as Mike knew Charlie was watching him, he parried Browny, showing him off.

Jess smiled and called out, "Lookin' good, Mike!", then rode over to Charlie and slipped out of the saddle to stand beside him. "Howdy, Charlie! Glad to see you got here in time for Dasiy's apple pie."

"Wouldn't miss it!"

Both men grinned, then turned to watch Mike who was putting Browny through his paces. Head high and nostrils flaring, the pony's face was delicately outlined by the beautiful bridle Jess had made.

"Hey, Charlie!" Mike yelled, raising his hand.

"Hi, Mike! You and Browny are looking mighty good out there!"

"Can you see what he's wearing? Isn't it great?" Mike asked. He guided Browny to prance closer to the two men and signaled the pony to bend his head and bow deeply.

"That's a real fine bridle," Charlie said, truly impressed. "It's just right for Browny."

"It is, isn't it?" Mike jumped out of the saddle and patted Browny's neck. "Jess gave it to me. He made it himself. I got to show it to Slim and Aunt Daisy! Do you know where Slim is?"

"Nope," Charlie said, "Haven't seen him since this morning."

Mike had already jumped back into the saddle. "Then I'll go show it to Aunt Daisy!" he said and rode Browny across the yard, yelling, "Aunt Daisy! Aunt Daisy!" until she poked her head out of the kitchen door to see what all the ruckus was about.

Charlie watched him with a smile, then turned to Jess. "That bridle's a fine piece of work," he told him. "You must have worked a long time on it."

"Yeah," Jess said quietly, involuntarily pulled back into the memories of his terrible illness and convalescence. "I had a lot of time at Colorado Springs. More than I wanted. But I'm glad I could use it to make somethin' special for Mike."

Charlie took a thoughtful, sideways look at the man beside him, wondering about him. How could he be happy and outgoing one minute and serious and inward the next? He hoped he would understand him when he got to know him better. He already admired him from what he'd heard about him. Absorbed in his memories, Jess was watching Mike and Daisy without really seeing them. Charlie decided to risk making a comment to him. "Sounds like you've had a hard time."

Absorbed in his memories, Jess was watching Mike and Daisy without really seeing them. Charlie decided to risk making a comment to him. "Sounds like you've had a hard time."

Jess shot him a quick glance. "It was hard on all of us - but Mike got the worst of it."

Charlie didn't believe that, but he didn't say so. He didn't know how open he could be with Jess yet. "Sorry I brought it up."

"It's OK, Charlie. I think about it too much anyway. It wouldn't of been so bad if Mike hadn't been in the middle of it…"

"Yeah." Charlie's weathered face echoed Jess' pain. "He had a hard time while you were gone. But when he knew you were getting better, he got better. I'm just now finding out what a hard-headed rascal he can be. But he's a good boy - and he loves you a lot."

"There's been times when I've wished he didn't - at least not so much. If I hadn't come back…" Jess' face tightened and his voice fell so low Charlie could hardly hear him. He sounded like he was talking to himself. "But if he didn't love me, I ain't sure I would've made it…" Jess was still watching Mike showing off his bridle to Daisy. "Seein' him happy again," he said, still to himself "is what matters…"

Charlie didn't know what to say, but Mike interrupted the conversation by leaping on Browny and racing back to the two men, jumping out of the saddle to land beside them. His face was all aglow. "Aunt Daisy likes it!" he proclaimed with joy. "Too bad Slim's not here. I want him to see it!"

Jess lost all trace of seriousness. He said playfully, "Well, he ain't here yet, but he will be as soon as he hears Daisy ringing that dinner bell. We better take care of these horses and get to the table before he gets here, or there won't be any grub left for us."

"Can I take care of Traveler?" Mike asked, wanting an excuse to hang around the barn until Slim came home.

"OK by me but let Charlie help you with the saddle."

"Sure!," Charlie said. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Charlie," Jess said. "Don't let Mike make you late for supper."

"I'll be there. I just want to wash some of this trail dust off of me and put on a clean shirt."

"Hey, Charlie…" Jess cocked his head and rubbed his ear like he was about to say something really important, "...do me a favor. If you got a stiff collar - don't wear it. We'll all be a lot more comfortable."

"I'll let you in on a secret," Charlie said as if he were sharing important information of his own. "I don't have one."

Jess slapped the ranch hand on the shoulder. "I knew there was somethin' I liked about you," he said before he turned away to walk toward the house.

Charlie grinned as he watched him go, then started unsaddling Traveler. Mike stood next to him, unbuckling Browny's straps. "I think he likes you," the boy said.

"You think so?"

"Sure. He wouldn't be joking around with you like that if didn't." He looked expectantly at Charlie. "You like him, too, don't you?"

"Sure do. He seems like he's alright."

"He is!" Mike said fervently. "He sure is!"

END OF CHAPTER 45


	46. Chapter 46

**IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH**

CHAPTER 46

When Jess opened the front door, he was met with the irresistible aroma of oven roasted beef. As he hung his hat on the rack, he noticed that Slim's gun belt wasn't there.

"It's just me," he called out to Daisy who stuck her head out of the kitchen.

"At least _you're_ on time!" she said, amused.

"I always am when there's somethin' to eat. Have you seen Slim?"

"No. Isn't he outside?"

"Nope. But don't worry. He'll be here as soon as he gets a whiff of that roast beef."

"Oh, you!" She waved him away with her wooden spoon and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jess went into the office and jabbed the freight receipts from the post office onto the skinny steel spike on the desk. The books and journals were neatly laid out, the pen and papers in orderly lines beside them, but Slim wasn't there.

Jess ran up the stairs to take his saddlebags to his room. The second floor was hot and stuffy because the windows were still closed against the heat of the day. Jess pushed one of them open to let in some fresh air. Glancing outside, he saw Slim on the hill behind the house. He was standing on the exact spot where Jess told his partner to bury him so many months ago.

" _What's he doing up there?'"_ Jess thought, frowning. He suspected that Slim was still brooding about the past. _"He's as bad as I am, but_ _I've had enough of it - and so has he."_ Resolved, he clattered down the stairs. He shouted, "I'm going back outside, Daisy!" as he jerked the back door open. "Got somethin' I need to do."

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour," Daisy called back, but Jess was already gone.

The hill behind the house was a steep one, covered with brush and small boulders. Jess climbed it, unnoticed by the family below or his partner above. When he got to the top, he saw Slim gazing into the distance, lost in thought. The rancher didn't acknowledge Jess' presence until his partner was a few yards away and only then because Jess rattled around in the shrubs like a bull in a china shop as he as he approached. Despite the noise, Slim didn't turn to look at him. It seemed like he was waiting for Jess to come to him.

"What in the sam hill are you doin' up here?" Jess complained as he struggled over loose rocks and spiky grass to stand beside him. "I know it ain't for the view."

"It's worth it once you get here," Slim said, still not looking at him.

"Sure it is. But that ain't why you're up here. How come I got the feelin' you been waitin' for me?"

"Hoping you'd come is more like it." Slim looked at him with the trace of embarrassment in his smile. "I'm glad you found me."

"Damn it, Slim! What's wrong with you? You're startin' to do what I finally stopped doin' - or at least, what I'm tryin' to stop doin'."

"What's that?"

"You know what I'm talkin' about - gettin' down in the dumps every five minutes." Jess laid a friendly hand on Slim's shoulder. "I think you might headin' in that same direction."

"The truth is…" Slim hesitated and glanced at Jess. Then he plunged ahead, "I hoped you'd see me up here and follow me. I wanted to talk to you without everybody else around."

"What about?" Jess asked, even though he already had a good idea what it was. "You look like you been to a funeral. You're standin' up here where I told you I wanted to be buried. That probably ain't no accident."

"You're right." Slim struggled to smile, but his eyes were sad. It was as if he were caught between two feelings. "I did bury something up here. Or at least, I tried to."

Jess' mouth quirked to the side. "You buried somethin'? " he quipped. "You look so mournful, I think you're sorry you didn't have a real funeral to go."

Slim's jerked around. He felt like he'd been slapped until he saw the mischievous glint in Jess' eyes. "Am I that bad?" he asked, his face softening into a smile.

"Yeah, you are, damn it!"

"Sorry. I guess I got lost in my thoughts."

"Well, how about gettin' unlost? You want to talk to me, and here I am. Just make it quick, or we're gonna miss out on that roast beef Daisy is cookin' up." He looked at Slim expectantly. He had a feeling Slim wasn't as sad as he seemed.

His partner grinned.

"Dadgum!" Jess said with relief. "You want to tell me what's goin' on?"

"I couldn't get in a word edgewise with you hogging the conversation!" Slim shot back.

"Hoggin' the conversation!" Jess gave him a playful punch in the side. "I was doin' the talkin' for both of us!"

"And you were doing a good job, too!" The rancher slapped Jess' midriff with the back of his hand. "How did it go in town today? Did you get us an appointment with Majors?"

Jess knew Slim was stalling, but he played along. "It went OK. We have an appointment Friday morning at ten o'clock. He said there wouldn't be a problem with the mortgage. He'll give us a good rate."

"That's good news. "

"Yeah." Jess followed Slim to a small boulder and sat down beside him. "I went to see Wentridge, too. He said he can enter the land into the Register as soon as we bring him the signed mortgage papers."

"Even better." With pride and satisfaction, Slim said, "We'll be the owners of the Minarrow land by this time next week." He was deeply grateful that he could share this success with his partner. All their years of tireless effort had finally paid off. Most importantly, Jess was here with him, alive and well.

"This afternoon, Mike and me rode over there to take a look at it," Jess said.

"Yeah?"

"We won't have to worry about water anymore. And we won't have to buy winter food. We got a real bargain."

"We got lucky. The folks who inherited that property didn't know anything about ranching. Land like that doesn't come on the market very often."

"It's gonna be a lot of extra work. The fences have to be restrun, and the barn and some other sheds have burned down. Probably got hit by lightning."

"They did. I saw the smoke and rode over there about a month ago. There wasn't anything worth trying to save. We didn't buy the land for the buildings anyway. As for the extra work, we've got Charlie around now to help out." He gave Jess a questioning glance, "Did you get to met him?"

"Yep."

"And?"

"And nothin'. He seems like a good man. Knows what to and goes ahead and does it."

"You're saying he can stay?"

"Sure."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Loud and clear!" Jess grinned. "But I told him there was one condition."

"And what would that be?"

"That he quit callin' me Mr. Harper!"

"Did he?"

"On the spot!"

"I'd of been surprised if he hadn't! He's a pretty smart guy. I hope we can keep him on."

"He'll hang around just to eat Daisy's good cookin'. He likes it."

"You know anybody that doesn't?"

"Nobody that I know of. But even if Charlie stays, we're gonna need a couple more hands to take care of the Minarrow land. Besides, I'm not gonna be able to help with the heavy stuff until next fall accordin' to Tyler."

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you obey doctor's orders. There's plenty for you to do right here close to home. You can take care of the relay business, for one thing - at least as long as the company keeps running the stages. Even if they do, I think we ought to drop the contract."

"We could talk to Kellington about it when we go to town Friday, but he won't be there. He's away on company business."

"You're in favor of dropping the contract?"

"Have been for a while. Kellington can hire somebody if he wants to keep it going, but with the new land, we won't have time for it."

"Did you go by to see Doc Higgins?"

"Yep. He was damned glad to see me. And I saw Mort." He gave Slim a suspicious look. "Why didn't you tell me about the dance on Saturday night?"

"I…." Slim stopped. In all the excitement of their reunion this morning, he really hadn't thought about it, but he decided to play along. "Guess you caught me, partner. Some things I just rather keep to myself."

"It don't matter," Jess said, enjoying their banter. "I found out about it anyway, no thanks to you!"

"And you probably already have a date, right?"

"Somethin' wrong with that?" Jess broke off some stalks of grass. He carefully sorted through them and picked one to stick between his teeth. "It ain't that big of a deal."

"Knock it off, Jess!" Slim said seriously. "You're acting like…."

"Like what?"

"...like nothing…. I'm glad you're going."

"Me, too. Maybe we'll finally put all this behind us."

Jess chewed on his blade of grass and stared quietly at the horizon. Slim watched him for a moment, then said, "Mort told me Miss Finch asked about you a couple of times. More than a couple. She was really worried about you."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing."

Slim kept eyeing him. "I think you like her."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!" Slim punched Jess on the shoulder. "I think she likes you, too."

"You don't have to keep hittin' me!" Jess complained and landed an elbow in his partner's side. "I'll be limpin' so bad I can't even dance. Anyway…." He leaned back, contemplative again, "...it don't mean nothin'. I might go out with her a time or two, but that's about it."

"Sure, partner, sure," Slim said, teasing him. "Hey! Did you hear that Clem Brittfield got married?"

"Mort told me. What's that got to do with anything?"

"Nothing," Slim declared with a grin. "But maybe you ought to start thinking about it. Getting enough timber to build a new house can take a while."

"You're loco."

"Seriously, Jess, she's a pretty woman and she's smart. I think she'd be a good match for you."

"How come everybody is tryin' to get me hitched up with Miss Finch? Even Mike! And now you! Is there somethin' I don't know?"

"No, but…if she likes you and you like her, what would be wrong with…."

"Look, Slim, there's a big difference between likin' somebody and lovin' them. I ain't ready to buy any timber yet. If things start headin' that way, you'll be the first to know."

"All right, then. That suits me. It would be too damn dull in the house without you anyway. I've had enough of you not being there."

"Don't tell me you missed my nighttime coughin' fits."

Slim sobered up. "No," he said, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "I don't miss that."

"Me either."

"And it's not something to joke about."

"No argument there."

They both stopped talking and sat side by side in companionable silence, each absorbed more in thoughts about the future than memories of the past. The only sound was the evening breeze that rustled through the grass around them, carrying with it the scent of sage.

After a while, Jess said quietly, "Slim, now that we've hashed through everything else, what're you really wantin' to talk about?"

Slim turned his head to look at him but didn't say anything, unable to find the words for something that was so important to him.

Jess read the tension in his partner's face. "It must be somethin' that's pretty hard for you to talk to me about, partner."

"It's not you," Slim snapped, using anger to overcome his muteness. "It's...it's just.."

Jess took a guess, a good one. "It's about buryin' me with that damn bullet, right?"

Slim frowned and gave a quick nod.

"Well, hey…." Jess cajoled, "...I ain't dead yet and I'm not planning' to be anytime soon, so…..," he gave Slim a look that was both gentle and insistent, "...you don't have to worry about that anymore."

Even this directness didn't shake Slim out of his mute condition, causing Jess to do some worrying of his own - about Daisy's dinner. If he couldn't hurry Slim up, he might miss it. With a quick swipe, he ran his hand across the pocket on Slim's shirt. The only thing he felt was the watch he'd given Slim this morning. "You threw it away, didn't you?" he asked, a smile glimmering in his eyes.

"Yeah," was Slim's one-word reply.

"You must'a had one hell of a fight to give it up. You look like you lost your best friend."

Slim's jaw clenched some more, and he looked down.

"Holy cow!" Jess groaned. This one sided conversation was hard to keep going. He jostled Slim's arm, trying to get a response out of him. "It might'a been easier to bury _me_."

"I told you it's not funny!" Slim said, glaring at him.

"I got to do somethin' to get you talkin"! Dadgum it! You need to get over this!"

"I threw it away, didn't I?" The clenched muscles in Slims' jaws were working overtime.

"You don't seem real happy about it."

Frowning, Slim said, "It's… it's just… God help me, Jess, I don't know if I'll ever get over it."

"Slim! I've told you a hundred times I don't blame you! It's never crossed my mind, even when I was out of my head with fever. But if you got to feel guilty about somethin', why don't you do some ponderin' about the rest of it."

Stone-faced, Slim said, "I threw that bullet away, but I'll never forget what it did - and how I let it happen."

Jess thought for a minute. "Well, maybe you ought'a quit tryin' so hard. Then maybe you can see the whole picture. What you did for me in Colorado Springs made up for anything you think you might be guilty of. You just ain't seen that part of it yet."

"That's a nice thought," Slim said dismissively.

"It's the way it is. You know it, or you wouldn't have thrown that damn thing away. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

Slim waved a hand, trying to brush Jess' words away. He stared straight ahead for a minute. Then he shrugged his shoulders in a faint, unwilling acknowledgment of what Jess said. "You could look at it that way."

"I do."

"Well, I hope you haven't got in your head that I came to Colorado Springs because I had a guilty conscience!"

Jess sat up with a jerk. "Sometimes you ain't got the sense God gave a goose!" he shouted, at wit's end. "If I thought that, do you think I'd be sittin' here right now? You would've buried me up here instead!" He took a deep breath and slowed down. "Look, Slim. I can't explain what happened at that hospital. All I know is I was at death's door and it was you that pulled me away from it. I'm alive because you were there. If there'd been anything that wasn't right between us, any kind of bad feelin' or blame, I wouldn't be here now."

"Maybe you're right about that - but if I'd acted sooner, you wouldn't have been in that kind of shape."

"You got things twisted up, Slim," Jess said. His voice grew as warm as the summer sun. "You can't be blamed for something bad happenin' that you can't do anything about - like the attack. But when I needed you most, when nobody could help me but you, when you really could help me, you did. That's what counts with me, partner, the only thing, and that's the only thing that ought to count with you."

Jess put his hand on Slim's shoulder, gripping it gently enough to emphasize the caring behind what he'd said but hard enough to send a message that he wasn't in the mood to tolerate any more arguments - especially since he could tell his words had finally made an impact. Slim's lips were clamped together, and he was staring at a blade of grass on the ground.

At last, Slim raised his head. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, he turned and looked at Jess with a bashful smile. Jess tilted his head and looked back at him, a smile of his own in his eyes. Then, they both grinned. They understood each other.

Slim reached into his pocket and pulled out the gold watch. "You know, Jess," he said, "when I put this in my pocket, all of a sudden there wasn't enough room for that bullet." He weighed the clock in his hand, looking at it with astonishment. "It was kind of like the gold and the lead couldn't stand being next to each other."

"It wasn't the gold and the lead that didn't go together - it was what they stood for. We ain't never gonna forget what happened, but we got to let it go. If we don't, we won't be able to do all the things we've talked about doin' for years. Everything we've been through will have been for nothin'."

Slim didn't say anything for a minute. Then, as if he'd finally seen the light at the end of a very long tunnel, he said, "You're right, Jess." He slipped the watch back into his pocket and put his hand on Jess' shoulder. Sitting there together on the rock, they looked like conspirators who'd agreed upon a plan of action. With a teasing smile, Slim said, "Anyway, you explained everything like a natural born preacher. I couldn't have said it better myself."

Jess looked at him in disbelief. "As I remember it, you didn't even try! And...," he said grinning, "...don't tell me you couldn't get a word in edgewise!"

"You wouldn't let me!"

They both laughed. The tension had broken.

Jess shook his head. "This is the thanks I get for talkin' myself blue in the face tryin' to get you on the right track again!"

"Well," Slim drawled, "as my old grand pappy used to say, 'Eaten bread is soon forgotten. ' "

Jess frowned, trying to figure this out.

"Your grandpappy?"

"Yep!" Slim grinned at him.

"Well, in that case…," Jess grinned back at him, "...maybe there's truth it, whatever the heck it means!"

They hit each other hard the shoulder, both of them laughing like two schoolboys.

Jess stood up first. He took a deep breath and stretched out wide as he took in the view of the rolling plains in front of him. "You know, from up here you can see the river," he said, blinking into the light of the setting sun. A shining ribbon of water snaked along the distant horizon. "I never noticed that before."

Slim stood up and came to stand beside him. "I've never noticed it either. The air must be really clear today,"

"We ought'a come here more often just to enjoy the view instead of always chasin' after some stray stuck in the bushes somewhere."

"Yeah. We should."

They stood in silence for a moment gazing at the fertile land that they now owned.

Jess turned to look down at the ranch house and the buildings and corrals around it. "Do notice somethin' else?" he said, almost reverently.

"What am I supposed to notice?" Slim asked, following his gaze.

"There's no shadow over the house."

"What shadow?"

"The shadow of death."

Alarmed, Slim took a look at him, studying him anxiously. Was his partner getting pulled back into the darkness they'd just left? But to his relief, Jess's face was calm, showing no sign of distress. In fact, he seemed pleased with himself and with the world. It was as if he was pointing out something obvious, something good.

"The best thing is…," Slim said, "...it's not hanging over you."

"It's not hangin' over any of us. It's not comin' between us."

"Is that what it did?"

"No!" Jess said. The unwavering certainty in his voice put Slim's fears to rest. "Otherwise, I would be buried up here instead of standin' up here beside you."

Slim rested his hand on Jess' back. "I'm glad to hear that, partner. We can enjoy Daisy's dinner a lot better that way!"

"No argument there, Jess agreed fervently. He took a deep breath of fresh Wyoming air. At last, he felt free of all the adversities that had threatened his life for the past nine months - because now he knew for sure that Slim was free, too.

Shoulder to shoulder, deeply connected, Slim and Jess stood silently on the hillside looking down on all they had created together over eight years of unrelenting hard work. Their faces were flooded with the warm glow of the ending day. In its light, two pairs of blue eyes shone with confidence. The two partners had plenty of time ahead of them to enjoy all the adventures life would bring their way

The End of Part III

and

The End of the Story


End file.
